Something Old, Something New
by EmAndHerPen
Summary: A future!samcedes fic. It has been six years since those Summer Nights, and a lot has changed for Sam and Mercedes. When they are reunited for Mike and Tina's wedding, they'll find out that the more things change, the more they stay the same.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. Trust me, if I did, it'd be very different.**

**A/N: Due to the fantastic spoilers/awesome feedback I got on When The Ball Drops, I've been inspired to write this future!samcedes fic. I have a feeling it's gonna be a long-term thing. Enjoy!**

**P.S. - Flashbacks are italicized.**

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><p>"What'll it be?" the petite bartender shot an inquisitive smile at the blond man sitting in front of her, one that contained the slightest tinge of flirtation.<p>

Sam Evans glanced up from his smartphone, "Dirty martini, very dry, extra olives," he ordered in an even tone. Turning his attention back to the message he was typing out on the touchscreen, he sensed the disappointment the bartender felt at his nonchalant response. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking into a knowing smile. If he was right, and he usually was, he was in for a bit of a show.

He watched as the red headed bartender made a show of reaching for the top shelf liquor, arching her back and sticking out her ass. And there was definitely some shimmying as she shook the cocktail. She leaned over and gave him a quite a smile and a view as she slid the drink to him. Sam paid for the drink, and then picked it up and took a large sip, smirking into his glass.

Popping one of the olives into his mouth, he looked down at the napkin that served as his coaster, Sam saw that she had scrawled her name, number and a message across one of the corners- "just in case you're into some activities even dirtier than that martini" he read. He looked up to find the young bartender standing a couple yards away, her eyes passing over his body with a sultry gaze. "Heather, is it?" he inquired coolly.

"It is," she replied crossing over to him, an extra sway in her slim hips, "and you are?"

"Interested." he said, his hand lightly running over the napkin. He leaned in close to whisper in her ear, "_Very interested."_

A mischievous smile played across her small pink lips. "Is that so?" she asked, leaning back slightly and meeting his green eyes with her blue ones. "I get off at 8, I'll be here…waiting."

Pulling a pen from his jacket pocket, Sam jotted down a quick note on the opposite corner of the napkin, bent down to grab his carry-on, and finished his drink in one swallow. Spearing the remaining two olives with a toothpick, he set the empty glass down on the napkin, and slid it over to her. "Perfect. And that's where I'll be." He gave her a heart-melting smile, and walked away, munching on the alcohol soaked olives.

She watched him walk away for a few seconds, that mischievous smile turning into a grin before picking up the napkin. Her face fell as she read it, and she looked up with a confused frown. "Wait!" she called after him, "isn't this in California? And who the hell is Mercedes?"

_Sam had just sat down with his Sunday morning cup of coffee when his cell phone rang from the other room. Rushing to answer it, he spilled some of the scalding brew on his hand._

"_Fuck, fuck, fuck…" he mumbled as he fanned his hand to soothe the burn and half ran to his bedroom. Spotting the phone on his bed, he dove for it and answered right before it rolled to voicemail, "Hello?"_

"_Hey man!"_

"_Mike! What's up dude? I was actually gonna call you this afternoon. We gotta decide on a date for that guys weekend in Vegas. Puck and the others emailed me their preferences, and it's looking like it's gonna be the first week of March."_

"_Hmm…two things. One, is there any way it can be in the first week of May? And two, do you mind planning my bachelor party for one of those nights?" Sam could almost hear Mike grinning into the phone._

"_W-Wait…what? Bachelor party?" Sam's eyes widened with realization, and his jaw hit the floor, "That means- you and Tina…"_

_Mike chuckled brightly, "Yeah. You know, it's been over seven years, and I still can't go seven minutes without her. Easiest and best decision I've made since we got together. I popped the question yesterday at dinner after the Arctic Monkeys show, and she said yes!"_

_Sam broke out in a dopey grin and ran his hands through his hair, "That's fantastic, man. I am so happy for you two. And I'd love to plan your party, as long as you don't mind me getting a little help from Puckerman. It'd be an honor."_

"_I don't mind at all. Just make sure you're in charge. After all, planning the bachelor party is one of the best man's most important duties."_

"_You mean I…"_

"_Yes you idiot," Mike snorted, "don't get all coy on me. Picking the best man and maid of honor was a no-brainer. You and Mercedes have been our best friends since high school."_

_Sam sat back on his bed and went silent for a moment before blowing out a breath as if it had been knocked out of him._

"_Sam, are you there? Look, we figured things between you two were…strange. But-"_

"_No, it's not a problem. It's you guys' day, and things aren't really weird…" Sam was lying through his teeth._

"_Great! I knew you'd come through for us."_

Sam sat at the gate, waiting for the call for first class passengers to board; he figured he had about half an hour if there weren't any delays. Feeling the pleasant warmth of the drink setting in, he pulled out his laptop to take care of a few last minute emails, freeing him up for the entire wedding weekend. It was unusual for him to be out of the office two weekends in a row, but Mike and Tina were important to him. There was little else he could justify spending that much valuable time away from his company for. Running a startup was grueling and time-consuming, but he loved his job. He loved being able to publish his talented peers work; and all that time he spent developing his web comic and editing his friends' graphic novels hadn't gone to waste.

Web publishing was the big thing nowadays, and he caught the wave at exactly the right moment, coasting to a promising start. His online publishing startup had attracted the attention of many bigger companies, wanting to buy him out- make him as rich as Zuckerberg, almost. But Sam wanted to do things on his own terms, and holding out had paid off- he was working out deals with quite a few established, popular web artists, graphic novelists, and the like- and almost all of them had come to _him._ Signing even half of the pool he was entertaining meant he would double the company's value in the next six months.

His phone buzzed, alerting him to the arrival of a text message. It was from Stevie: a picture of him in a suit and Stacey in a soft purple dress, both holding up their diplomas. It killed him that he had to miss their eighth grade graduation, but Mike and Tina were only getting married once, and he swore by every deity that he wouldn't miss their high school graduation. He replied, saying how wonderful they looked and how proud of them he was. Sam hated that he had missed so much of their lives, but if he hadn't gone away to school, who knows what would have happened? He had not taken a huge risk and even bigger loan to go to the Rhode Island School of Design, he might not have started this business from his dorm room. But he had, and it took off; now the loan was paid in full. He had even started a college fund for Stevie and Stacey.

"Flight 7568 to Sacramento is now boarding first-class passengers, first class passengers please proceed to gate 7A," blared the announcement. Sam put away his laptop, got his boarding pass ready, and stepped into line. Soon the plane was all boarded, and they ascended after the short safety presentation. Settling in for the five hour flight, he pulled out a neck pillow and his favorite pair of noise cancelling headphones, and plugged them into his iPhone. Leaning back into the cushy chair, he pressed play and shook the device to shuffle the songs- he was not in the mood for any one song in particular.

A sweet smile played across his lips as the opening lines filled his ears, "summer lovin' had me a blast…" Sam took a sip of his complimentary champagne, closed his eyes, and let nostalgic dreams fill his head for the remainder of the flight.

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><p>As the last chord faded out, the air was filled with enthusiastic applause and shouts. "Thank you Chicago! You've been so wonderful, have a great night!" Mercedes Jones shouted, beaming into the crowd with teary eyes. After a blowing a few kisses into the audience, she waved goodbye and headed backstage on wobbly legs. Putting her guitar into its case, she settled into the couch in her dressing room and let out a shaky breath. Dozens of performances later, she still felt the same overwhelming rush of adrenaline, excitement, and slight disbelief each and every night.<p>

Mercedes lovingly stroked the weathered case, tracing her fingers over the stickers that announced all the new places to which she had traveled. She felt incredibly blessed to be living the life she was living. Of course she had big dreams for herself- she always had. But she knew that building a career as an established musician was not an easy task- during her years at Berklee, she had steeled herself for years of rejected demos, playing to handfuls of people, and working thankless assistant jobs to "break into the business." But all of that had changed in one night, because of a hankering for a pint. Mercedes gently shook her head and smiled to herself as she fondly recalled that fateful evening.

_She had participated in a study abroad program in London during the first semester of her senior year. She fell in love with the city during those few months- there was something so romantic about the architecture, the accents, even the rain. There was small pub on the path from the conservatory to her flat where she often stopped for dinner or a drink. They often had live music in the evenings- the talent ranged from complete amateurs to conservatory students to mildly popular local acts. _

_One unusually balmy night, Mercedes was walking home from practice and decided, on a whim, to stop in for a quick drink. She found the cozy spot busier than usual, and decided to keep her guitar close- just in case. After a few minutes, she found a seat, cased guitar safely between her legs and the wood of the bar. She smiled when she saw that her favorite bartender was in, and then slightly blushed. Nathan was a bi-racial British babe- dark curly hair, deeply tanned skin, sturdy build, bright blue eyes, and a devastating smile. The baby blues in question spotted her from across the bar, and Nathan made his way over._

"_Hello, Mercy. What'll it be, love?" he asked, leaning slightly forward._

"_Hey you. You're the expert, whatever draft you recommend. Your taste is impeccable…" Mercedes said with a playful smile. She watched as Nathan poured her a pint of something that looked golden, frothy, and delicious. Taking a deep sip, she learned that it was even better than it looked. "This is your best pick yet, darlin'."_

"_Thanks!" suddenly, a impish grin appeared on his handsome face, "I'll tell you what- if you play tonight, it's on the house. I see you lugging that guitar in here all the time, but you've never played, not once." He raised an eyebrow, "Unless of course you happen to be scared…"_

"_Oh honey child," Mercedes downed her pint and challenged his gaze, "that word isn't even in my vocabulary. Watch me." She grabbed her guitar and strode up to the stage, waiting for the current act to vacate her space. Taking her guitar out of the case, she stepped up to a smattering of applause and a few whistles. She introduced herself, and after quickly tuning the instrument, she closed her eyes and crooned a soulful, unique rendition of "_Crazy For You" _by Adele. She opened her eyes to a round of applause that was curiously loud given the number of patrons. Mercedes thanked them for listening, and stepped off stage where a man was waiting for her._

"_You were fantastic, just brilliant!" he praised her in a gravelly voice. "Do you by any chance write your own music?"_

"_I do! I attend the Berklee College of Music in the states," said a flattered Mercedes, "I am here at the conservatory studying abroad. I hope to pour my soul out to crowds a bit larger than this one, someday…" she chuckled._

"_I'm going to assume you have a demo," he replied with a bemused expression, "here's my card. If you sing your own songs with half as much heart and skill, I might have just the opportunity you're looking for." He handed her his card, and left the shocked girl glued to her spot._

Mercedes hailed a cab outside the hall, laughing quietly to herself as she remembered how Nathan had to shake her out of her stupor. That man had been one of the people managing Adele's upcoming tour. He had loved her work, and less than two weeks after graduation, she was opening for Adele Adkins herself. That in and of itself would have been a huge blessing, but when the artist's label offered her a development deal at the end of the tour, she was bowled over. So now she was working on her first album, while playing the occasional show to keep herself sharp.

Tipping her cabbie, she greeted the doorman warmly as she headed into her building. After checking her mail, she punched the button for the 12th floor, sorting through her mail during the short ride. Fishing her keys out of her purse, she let herself into the apartment. Mercedes loved her cozy little flat. As her luck would have it, it belonged to the niece of one of the execs at her label who moved permanently to New York, and he let her rent it for an extremely reasonable price. Dropping her mail in a basket by the door, she pulled one of her larger suitcases out of the storage closet and proceeded to begin packing. A couple of hours later, she was almost finished- there was just one more piece she needed. Moving to her walk in closet, she headed to the back and selected a dress.

Sitting on her bed she stroked the charcoal gown. It was beautiful- silky, long and flowing with intricate silver beaded bodice that flowed into one shoulder. Mercedes didn't know how, but Tina had hit the nail on the head- she couldn't have picked a more perfect dress if she had tried. She frowned as she remembered there was no way she could have tried. At the time that Tina had called to tell her the wonderful news, she was on tour and busy beyond belief; by the time she was able to help out, almost all the details had been taken care of, including the bridesmaids' dresses. She knew that Tina understood, but she still felt like a terrible friend.

Not that she hadn't made up for it, or at least tried to. Mercedes had arranged the most scandalous, fabulous bachelorette weekend. It was filled with pole dancing classes, delicious drinks, karaoke, great food, wonderful company, and a few Gaga tickets that the label had scored her, complete with backstage passes. She laughed as she remembered how Tina and the girls had almost passed out when she told them- even Santana could barely utter a "Damn, girl gots the hookup." The weekend was filled with memories they would cherish (and blush about) for decades to come.

Zipping her maid of honor dress in a garment bag, she picked up all of her bags and put them by the door. Mercedes triple checked her purse for her ticket, ID, and other necessities before getting ready for bed. After winding down with some yoga, she slipped into her favorite nightie and completed her pre-bed ritual. However, once she was in bed, Mercedes found that falling asleep was another problem entirely. Her mind wandered back to the conversation where Tina had given her the good news.

"_Oh my GOD, Tina that is amazing!" she was practically bouncing around backstage during the sound check, "Ahhhh! I knew it. He was looking through your jewelry, you know. Last month, when I was in town and I came to see you guys. I went to borrow some hand cream, and he was rifling through your rings, no doubt to get the size."_

"_He would," Tina began warmly, "Mike's just that kind of guy, you know? He wants to keep things fresh and surprise me." She paused for a moment before starting again, "Cede, I- we want to ask you something-"_

"_YES!" she shouted as the crew shot her funny looks. She heard Tina laugh heartily on the other end of the line._

"_Still the same girl, a step ahead of everyone. I'm glad you're so excited to be my maid of honor. I'm sure Sam squealed like a girl when Mike asked him earlier today."_

"_Oh." Mercedes slid down the wall she was leaning against, and sat on the floor._

"_Oh no, honey… it's not going to bother you is it-"_

"_No! Why would you even think that?" she said hurriedly. "It's your day, and it is going to be wonderful. Don't think twice about it."_

Mercedes turned for what seemed like the hundredth time and let out an exasperated sigh. She meant what she said; nothing would get in the way of Tina's perfect day, she would play nice, be polite and distant- her rocky history with the dork be damned. But as she gazed at the silhouette of her guitar in the darkness and felt that familiar pang, she couldn't deny something; not even to herself. Not letting that history interfere with her slumber was a battle she was currently losing.

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><p><strong>The song "Crazy For You" belongs to Adele.<strong>

**How are you guys feeling the backstory/buildup? They've made quite the success of themselves, no? I would really love to hear what you love/don't love about it so far, so please review it!**

**Thanks!**

**Em**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: On the first page**

**A/N: I am overwhelmed by the positive response to this story. The amount of alerts, and thoughtful comments seriously made me tear up. I really put a lot of thought and planning into this story, so it makes me really happy to see others enjoying it. I originally decided to update once a week on Fridays, but I finished this chapter early, so here you go!**

**Flashbacks are in italics.**

**P.S. – if you didn't already know, "Asian glow" is the reddening "glow" some people of Asian descent get when they drink.**

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><p>"Sam!" Sam's head snapped up to see his best friend rushing towards him from the big, airy estate. He was impressed, and it must have shown because Mike walked up with a sheepish grin. "Not bad, eh? I figured if we were gonna have a Napa wedding, we were gonna do it right."<p>

Climbing out of the car and sidestepping the driver, Sam drew his friend into a quick hug, slapping him jovially on the back. "Definitely. This place is phenomenal!" He let out a low whistle as he took it all in. The gigantic sandstone mansion stood proudly amongst a beautiful garden that looked like it extended well into the back of the property, all of it guarded by a beautifully intricate wrought iron gate. "You must have sold a kidney to afford this…and a chunk of your liver…" Sam chuckled.

"How'd you know?" Mike took a step back and gave his friend the best look of mock surprise he could muster, "Doctor said I can't have even one sip of the overpriced champagne we bought. It hurts, man…" he said in a comically mournful voice while clutching his heart, "It hurts right here. And here for that matter." Mike put on an exaggerated sad face and clutched his sides before bursting out in laughter.

"You're a trip, Chang. A real trip." Sam gave him a quick side eye before joining in the raucous laughter. Seeing that the driver had unloaded his luggage, he tipped him generously and wished him a safe trip back. Both men grabbed a bag and headed through the gates toward the estate, playfully swinging at each other and laughing as they caught up.

"To be honest, I could have afforded at least half of this off the return of my investment in your company, you know that." Mike shot Sam a grateful smile, "I believed in you, and it paid off, man. Of course I used that money to open up my studio…" he laughed, "so maybe not."

"But seriously," Mike began as soon as he was able to keep a straight face, "The wedding was a gift from our parents." Seeing the shocked look on his best friend's face, he gave him a knowing smile. "I know, I know, I wouldn't have believed it either. We flew to Lima the weekend after we got engaged to visit them and tell them in person. We were a little…um…_nervous_ about it, to say the least. I mean Tina's parents were fine with us, they always have been, but you know how long it took my parents to really embrace her as my girlfriend." A look of frustration and disappointment passed over Mike's face and he tightened his grip around the handle of Sam's suitcase in residual anger.

"But they love her now, Mike…" Sam softly reminded him, "yes, they were wrong for not being accepting of your dream and your amazing girl early on, but that's over, man." He clamped a supportive hand on the dancer's shoulder.

"Yeah, sorry." Mike gently shook himself out of the funk he had slipped into, "It's just hard to let go of sometimes, you know? All those years of negativity…" he shrugged and scrunched up his face before letting out a sigh. "_But_, back to the story. We had dinner at my parent's house, all six of us, and my parents were just as happy as hers. My mom even teared up a little! And then they offered to foot the bill between them- provided we had a good dose of Asian flavor, of course." He rolled his eyes but broke out in a smile that betrayed the fondness behind the frustration. They reached the door, and Mike came to a stop, turning to the blond. "Ready?" he asked in a "wait-'til'-you-see-this" tone.

"Hell yeah, dude." Sam watched as Mike pushed open the intricately carved, heavy oak doors and gestured for him to step inside.

"Ladies first." Mike quipped, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Ver-" Sam's sarcastic retort was cut short when he stepped inside the lavish home. He had been expecting a grand first impression, but it was safe to say that his expectations were shattered. He entered a foyer the size of his apartment complete with gleaming marble floors, expensive looking artwork, and a spiral staircase twisting impossibly high that lead the eye to a cathedral ceiling dotted on various levels with ornate stained glass windows. "_Holy shit_…" he breathed, unable to produce a full sentence, let alone a compliment worthy of what he was seeing. And then it dawned on him- "But this is just…"

"The foyer?" Mike grinned, biting his cheek to stop from laughing at his wide-eyed best man. "Yeah, I know. Wait 'til you see this!" Mike walked to the wall immediately to the left of the front door and opened a small hatch to reveal what looked like a control panel with different colored buttons, each below a small label. After pressing the navy blue button located in the middle of the panel, he closed the hatch and walked back over to Sam with a giddy expression on his face. His friend responded with a confused expression, and was about to ask him why he pressed the button when his thoughts were interrupted by a voice in front of them.

"You rang, Master Chang?" inquired a deep voice in a thick British accent. Sam's head snapped forward to see the question came from a middle-aged man wearing an impeccably crisp suit.

Both fought to suppress the laughter prompted by the man's inadvertent rhyme, mentally chastising themselves for acting like they were five, and failing. "Yes, Fredrick. I'd like you to meet my best friend, and best man, Sam Evans." The butler gave an acknowledging nod towards the introduced party and expressed his pleasure to make his acquaintance. "And I told you, call me Mike! Anyway, I would love it if you could take his bags to one of the guest rooms reserved for the groomsmen and make sure that the correct number of places are set for dinner."

"Of course Master Michael."

Figuring that was as informal as he could get the man to be, he handed Frederick the bags they carried in. Turning to Sam with a glint in his eye, he nodded at him to follow as he walked into the house, down a sweeping corridor lined with doors , alcoves, and passageways. "Where's Tina anyway?" Sam inquired as they walked down the hall, "I have to give the bride-to-be a hug!"

"Oh, Tina and the girls – and Kurt, of course - went on a tour of a local vineyard. They'll be back in time for dinner." Mike informed him.

As soon as he heard Mike reference 'the girls' Sam's stomach tightened nervously. While touring the grand house and catching up with his best friend, he had managed to forget about her for a few minutes- about how he would see her in just a few hours. The nervous energy vibrated throughout his body, and he hoped that wherever Mike was leading him, it would do something to distract him once again.

They stopped at the second to last door before a turn in the hall. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he met Sam's questioning gaze. "I figured we all could use some pre-dinner guy time." He turned the knob and opened the door.

Sam cocked his head in curiosity as he stepped through the doorway, but at first glance, his breath caught in his chest. It was official, he found heaven- this is where he would spend his eternity in the hereafter. The phrase 'game room' did this room a grave injustice. Walking in, the wall immediately to his right was mostly covered by a giant plasma television, partially embedded into the wall. Underneath the behemoth, organized neatly into a complex network of cubbyholes, was every gaming system and game a man could ever hope to own, opposite a long, comfortable looking couch. Sam knew his fifteen-year-old self would have wept at the sight; to be completely honest, he was getting a little emotional right now. Managing to tear his eyes away, he turned back to Mike and his satisfied expression, "Wait, what do you mean all of us?"

"Back here, you loser!" Noah Puckerman's voice rang out, followed by a chorus of laughter. Looking around, Sam tried to figure out where the voices could possibly be coming from. He noticed a door in the far corner of the room and turned back questioningly to his friend, who gave him an encouraging nod. Walking through the doorway, he discovered the other half of the room. There were card tables, a full bar, a mini bowling alley, and a couple of pool tables where some of his best friends were playing a game. He was quickly assaulted by a barrage of bro-hugs while Artie enthusiastically cheered on the attack.

"What, did you forget that there were other groomsmen, _best man_?" Finn mocked, good-naturedly. "_Such_ a diva move, bro."

_Diva…he knew a certain diva with smooth chocolate skin and lips that made him beg for-_

Sam violently shook his head, his cheeks growing warm, "Very funny, _Finnessa_," he quipped. "But I guess since you're dating Rachel, you'd know all about that." He was about to roast his friend a bit more, but stopped when he saw his pained expression as the rest of his friends stared awkwardly at the floor. "Wait, what happened…"

"We, um…broke up." Finn crossed his arms and leaned dejectedly against the pool table. "Don't feel bad for not knowing, it's all good. I only just told the rest of the guys a couple of hours ago."

Sam was shocked; those two definitely had their issues, and sure they were off and on, but lately they had been very much _on_, or so he thought. "So wait, did this happen recently, or…?"

Finn slowly let out a breath before answering, "Yeah, it happened couple of weeks ago."

"So is this one of your breaks?" Sam asked, though he could tell from Finn's body language that it was more than that.

"Nah, it's permanent. We're done for good…" he mumbled, gripping the edge of the pool table until his knuckles were white. "Apparently she doesn't have time for 'someone like me' anymore, whatever that means."

"Well, at least you won't have to see her this weekend, right?" Blaine placed a sympathetic hand on Finn's shoulder, "That should help." Artie raised his hand in his infamous "preach" wave.

"But I thought she was a bridesmaid…" Sam turned to Mike, "What happened? Is Tina okay with this?"

Mike pursed his lips bitterly, "She sent her regrets to us a month ago- apparently she's convinced her understudy will undermine her in her psycho quest for fame if she lets her do a show or two. So that trumps the wedding of people who've been friends with her for over eight years."

"What the _hell_?" Artie muttered, a disgusted look on his face, "We've all got important things going on in our lives. I mean look at us; Puck has a national pool cleaning business, I'm co-directing a movie that could make my career, Sam has his business, Blaine is in a show, Finn is the assistant coach to a successful college football team- not to mention the man of the hour and his dance school. That's such bullshit."

They stood for a moment, all consumed by the frustration that stemmed from yet another selfish, 'Classic Berry' move.

"Well, look. As far as I'm concerned, Tina's over it, we have the most kickass recreation room I've ever seen in my life, and my main man over here," Sam said, clapping a hand on Mike's shoulder, "is about to tie the knot with the woman of his dreams. Let's make the most of it."

A chorus of agreement sounded, and the mood lifted. The pool game restarted, and Sam and Mike raced to the adjoining room to get in a few matches on the big screen before the others joined them.

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><p>Leaning lightly against the stone wall of the rooftop terrace they were lounging on, Mercedes took a sip of a deliciously chilled sauvignon blanc. She couldn't help the warm smile that spread across her face as she surveyed the scene in front of her. To her left, Kurt and Tina were chatting softly to each other while leaning against the stone wall, facing out and taking in the beautiful scenery. Directly in front of her was a fire pit, lit and blazing, surrounded by low couches where Santana sat watching the dancing flames with Brittany's legs draped across her lap. The blonde snuggled into her side, lovingly nuzzling her cheek as her girlfriend ran her thumb over their clasped hands.<p>

Quinn returned to her side, with a new glass of wine- a rosé. She offered it to Mercedes, who took a sip, and found it just a touch too sweet for her taste. The petite blonde let out a content sigh as she rested her head against her friend's shoulder. Mercedes smiled and stroked Quinn's hair with her free hand; she fondly recalled how she used to do it for her when she was a pregnant teen living with her family. On nights when she was too troubled to sleep, she would sing to her in a sweet, low voice while rhythmically stroking her golden hair until she drifted off.

"Mercy?"

"Hmm?"

"I was just thinking about how you used to do this to put me to sleep, way back when."

Mercedes laughed quietly, "I was just thinking about the same thing. Great minds, hmm?" she felt Quinn giggle softly into her shoulder.

Lifting her head, she fixed a solemn gaze on her friend's deep brown eyes. "This may be a bit mushy…_probably_ because this is my third glass of wine…but I am so glad that we reconnected."

"Aw, Quinnie-"

"No, seriously," the blonde paused, choked with emotion, "I know that it was in high school, and that it was a long time ago, but I still feel guilty about dropping you like you meant nothing to me." Her green eyes were filled with tears as she earnestly squeezed Mercedes' hand, "Because honestly, you mean the world to me. I'm just sorry that it took one hellish first semester of college to realize that."

Mercedes put a comforting arm around Quinn's shoulders and gently squeezed. She felt her own eyes brim with tears and swallowed the lump that was starting to form in her throat. True, they had been through hell and back, but that is what made their friendship as strong as it was. Placing a light kiss against her friend's reddened cheek, she noticed it was wet. "Hey now, Quinniebear…" she cooed, wiping the lone tear from her cheek, "No crying. This is a happy occasion, we can't go flooding the place, can we?" She sniffled, blinking back a few tears of her own. They shared a giggle, sniffling and composing themselves.

"I know. Just know that I love you, Mercykins- so very much." Quinn gently pressed her forehead against Mercedes', smiling fondly at her soul sister.

"Looks we're not the only ones sharing sweet lady kisses, hmm?" the girls turned to see Santana looking at them with a bemused expression.

"Wait, are they Lebanese too?" Brittany clapped her hands together excitedly.

Kurt and Tina came over to the group, laughing at the comically misguided remark. After they had gently explained that Quinn and Mercedes were not, in fact, 'Lebanese' the six of them sat around the warming fire, making pleasant conversation.

"So," began Kurt primly, "How is the blushing bride feeling?"

"Other than this awful case of Asian glow?" cracked Tina, "I am feeling wonderful, and blessed. To have all of the people I love be present for one of the most important days of my life is all I could ask for, honestly." She flashed a warm smile at her friends.

"So does that mean you don't love Rachel anymore? Since she's not here, I mean…" Brittany asked, blinking innocently. A wave of awkwardness passed over the group before Tina turned to Brittany.

"No, she certainly disappointed me, but I still love her. It's just clear that she doesn't love me as much as I love her…" she answered quietly. Brittany looked sad as she nodded in understanding. Santana supportively rubbed her arm before planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Hey, it's actually a good thing, if you think about it." Kurt remarked, attempting to lighten the mood, "Now I get to be a bridesmaid too. I mean, I love you Tina, but me- a groomsman? What were you _thinking_?" The group let out a bubbly laugh as he rolled his eyes melodramatically. "Besides, black against this porcelain skin would have been way too harsh. I look much better in a charcoal suit."

Mercedes shot a grateful look in Kurt's direction. He always knew how to cheer her up during her rough grade school years; and now he was using that same spark to ensure Tina only had fond memories of this time they shared. He returned her look with a small nod and a smile.

"Speaking of men in suits," began a pleasantly buzzed Quinn, "I can't wait to see my man in one. Noah fills out a suit like nobody's business. I think it has something to do with his shoulders…" she trailed off, dreamily. "Oh, and of course Mike is also gonna look _so fuckin' hot, _T." Quinn waggled her eyebrows suggestively at the bride, causing her to laugh. "And no doubt Sam is g-" she stopped suddenly, her eyes widening in embarrassment. "Mercy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

Mercedes fixed her eyes on the glass she held in her lap, furiously blinking back the tears that rushed unexpectedly to her eyes. "It's fine, Q, really." She lied while avoiding their eyes. "It's not like I'm not gonna see him at the rehearsal dinner in a couple of hours anyway." She laughed, mirthlessly. "You can compliment him."

Conversation began to flow around her as she zoned out. Any mention of Sam in a suit brought her right back to their senior prom.

_Mercedes nervously smoothed her dress and fiddled with her hair._

"_Mercedes Patrice Jones," her mother chided, "I have watched you fidget and pick at yourself damn near ten times in the past five minutes. Stop that, you look gorgeous! Mercedes sighed and walked over to the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door. Tilting her head, she assessed her reflection._

_If nothing else, she was in love with her dress; it was the first dress she tried on, and as soon as she zipped it up, she knew that she could stop looking. The chic deep blue chiffon sheath made her skin glow. The lace cap sleeves led into a bodice with a sweetheart neckline. Her mother sewed a corset into the lining of the dress, a brilliant move on her part. Just the right amount of cleavage peeked from the neckline, and her waist was cinched in just so. The bottom of the dress fell softly away from her body in the most beautiful way, hiding strappy silver heels._

_She was even satisfied with her make-up; the soft smoky eye, fresh complexion, and nude lip were equal parts sweet and sexy. And even though her wavy hair was in a simple style – the top half pulled back into a clip with face framing pieces left out – she couldn't help feeling that something was missing. Mercedes was so lost in contemplation she jumped when her mother touched her shoulder._

"_I think you're missing a little something, darling." Her mother had tears in her eyes as she handed her a familiar box. "Your grandmother gave this to me at my senior dance, and now it's your turn." She opened the ornate silver box to reveal a set of pearl earrings and a matching necklace- simple yet exceedingly elegant. Mercedes was speechless as her mother brushed her hair to one side and fastened the clasp of the necklace. After putting in the earrings, she turned back to the mirror and sighed in contentment. That was it- of course her grandma supplied what was missing, even after she was gone._

_Her mother cupped her face with both hands and looked at her as if she was about to break. "I cannot believe you are so grown up, Mercy. You are a beautiful young lady, and I am so proud to be able to share this moment with you." She sniffled and pinched her cheek. Suddenly, the doorbell rang._

"_Oh my god it's Sam and I'm not even ready what am I gonna do Oh Lord-"_

"_Mercedes!" Her mother laughed at her nervous antics. "Get yourself together child. Your clutch is on the vanity, you're all dressed, I made sure your tickets, fully charged phone, and other essentials are all there. Take 3 deep breaths, then count slowly to thirty and come down the stairs."_

_Mercedes slowly inhaled and exhaled, feeling her nerves in each shaky breath. Truth be told, she was anxious about how Sam would react to the way she looked. He always told her she was beautiful, but these were special circumstances. Once she finished counting down, she grabbed her clutch and headed towards the stairs for her big entrance. Mercedes paused at the top of the stairs, took a deep breath, grabbed the banister, and began her slow descent. She heard her and Sam's parents talking softly to each other, and then she heard all five of them turn to watch her._

"_Woah…" Sam breathed, his wide green eyes sweeping up her body once, then twice, resting on her face. Mercedes watched him watching her. He stared at her hungrily, drinking her in; it was as if he was burning every detail of this moment into his memory. She felt naked under his gaze- naked, but not exposed; for everything he took in she gave, willingly. _

_And she, in turn, saw him- and instantly her breath caught in her chest. He looked so dapper, like something out of an Armani ad. The crisp three-piece suit he wore fit his slender, muscular frame as if it had been tailor made. The deep blue of his vest and pocket square made his green eyes seem a vibrant turquoise color. He wore a confidant smile as his gaze met hers, and her heart burst with pride. He was _hers_, and no one else's._

_Sam met her on the landing and took her into his arms, kissing her hello. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," he whispered into her ear, "I am the luckiest guy in the world."_

"_You're damn right you are!" she said playfully. After going through the motions of the parents gushing and taking a couple thousand photographs, they headed out to the car- a Bentley their parents had rented for them as a gift. Sam drove out of the neighborhood and then pulled over on a sleepy side street._

"_What's wrong, babe?" Mercedes asked, her nose scrunched up in curiosity._

"_I have something for you," Sam said, smiling fondly at his girl, "I know you're gonna say that you didn't get me anything, so don't start. Besides, the way you look in that dress is more than enough." He gave her a charming wink before pulling out what looked like a ring box from his pocket._

"_Sam…Sam, what is that?" she said, panic rising in her throat._

"_Open it." He smirked, handing her the velveteen box._

_Shaking, she opened it to find a ring with intricate filigree and a small, beautifully clear stone. "Oh dear god, is this a-"_

_Sam chuckled brightly, "No, Mercedes Jones, this is _not_ an engagement ring. You can breathe now." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it lovingly, "it's a promise ring. I know we talked about it before, about staying together when you're in Boston and I'm in Providence. I'm glad we are committing to making this work. And that, my dear, is a token of my appreciation for our commitment." He slipped it on the ring finger of her left hand._

"_How in the world did I get so lucky?" Mercedes beamed at her boyfriend_

"_I have no idea…" Sam leaned in to kiss her, smiling against her full lips._

"_Hello!_ Earth to Wheezy!" Santana waved her lanky arms in Mercedes' face as she snapped out of her nostalgia. The group laughed at her confused expression. "We were just saying we should probably head back so we have enough time to get dressed for dinner."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure." Mercedes agreed, passively. As the group made their way down to the waiting car, the reality of her impending reunion with a certain blonde ex-boyfriend began to weigh on her, heavily.

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><p><strong>I know, I know, you guys are waiting for some lovey-dovey samcedes stuff, but there's some angst to get through first! Ha.<strong>

**You'll be happy to know they come face to face in the next chapter, and let me tell you, it's a DOOZY.**

**I hope you enjoyed reading this at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'd appreciate it if you took a couple of minutes to review it and tell me what you think!**

**- Em.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: On first page**

**A/N: For the purposes of this story, Tina's mother's last name is Cohen because she is half Jewish- her maternal grandfather was a Jew, and her maternal grandmother was Chinese. She however, is not a practicing Jew.**

**I know we're coming off of a Samcedes high this last week, especially today with the songs being released, so enjoy! Indulge your little shipper heart and celebrate our visible canon-ness!**

**Also, thank you so much for the encouraging reviews, and I'm beyond happy you guys are enjoying this!**

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><p>Mercedes followed her tipsy, giggling friends into the house. They opted to take the elevator to their guest rooms on the top floor instead of the stairs; heels and alcohol don't mix with spiral staircases. Slipping into her room, she closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a sigh of relief. She was exceedingly worried that she would run into Sam before she had a chance to collect herself. But she hadn't, and now she could get dressed and mentally prepared.<p>

"Mercedes?"

She jumped halfway across the room when she heard someone knock and call her name. "Who is it?" she inquired, breathlessly.

"It's Tina!" she had quizzical look on her face as Mercedes let her in, "What's wrong Cede? You look kinda freaked out…"

"Me? No, I was just a little caught off guard by the knock, that's all." _That was at least half true_, she reasoned with herself. She turned to her friend with a smile, "What's up, boo?"

She held up a garment bag, "I was just hoping you'd help me choose what dress to wear; I've narrowed it down to two, but you're a little bit better at this kind of thing." Tina smiled fondly at her maid of honor, "Oh, and to make sure that your dress for the rehearsal dinner is, in fact, red."

"_Yes mistress_," Mercedes said in mock exasperation, "I have limited my scope of dresses to comply with your wish. And you know purple is my power color, so this is a big deal." She threw Tina a playful smirk as she examined the two dresses in the garment bag. "This one- definitely this one. This is practically made for your body!" She pulled out a beautiful scarlet pencil dress, well cut with a square neckline.

"Ugh, you're such a life saver!" Tina smiled gratefully. "You know, at first I was kind of miffed that our parents put the Asian tradition mandate on their offer to pay for the wedding," she began, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a contemplative smile. "But I'm so glad they did. Even if it means having to sneak around to see Mike for the last week." A mischievous smirk played across her lips, "Even though sneaking around made it kind of hot."

"Girl, bye." Mercedes laughed at the frisky expression on the bride's face. "For what it's worth, I think the compromise is beautiful. A little separation will give that wedding night an _edge_." Tina blushed and grinned as Mercedes raised her eyebrow suggestively. "Those little red and gold envelopes of money waiting on our pillow didn't hurt either," she laughed, "you guys have the best customs. I think the red decorations and attire are a beautiful tradition. Besides, you know I look good in red."

Tina threw a pillow at her maid of honor, "_Yeah, yeah, yeah_. You look good in every color, we know." She giggled, laying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling, "But yeah, I am glad I embraced it. Plus it meant that when I chose charcoal grey dresses for my bridesmaids my mom couldn't say _shit_. So she went running to my grandpa, like always" Tina giggled, propping herself up on one elbow, "He was _pissed_." She mimicked her grandpa's voice, "_Tina, if you don't want me or your mother to kvetch about your wedding, don't pick such depressing colors. Always with the depressing colors, you mashugana." _The girls laughed at her impression of her very Jewish grandfather.

"I love your family, T." Mercedes giggled, "They're so _vocal_. Just like me." She grinned.

"Ha, that you are." Tina dodged the pillow Mercedes threw at her and gathered up the dresses. "Alright, I'm gonna go get ready, and leave you to do the same. Dinner's at 8, so you have a little over an hour." She paused after opening the door and turned to face her friend, "Oh, and Cede?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. You've been so incredible with the little time you have. I know this is a busy time for you, but you made me feel so special and taken care of. And I know it can't be easy, seeing Sam for the first time in almost two years-"

"_Tina-"_

"Mercedes Jones, you will not lie to me about this. It sucks, I know. But you're here, and you're strong, and you look the best you've ever looked. So make him dizzy with regret tonight." Tina winked at her best friend before stepping out and closing the door behind her.

_I have the best friends in the world, _Mercedes thought to herself. She started the shower and went to grab a band to put her hair up when her guitar case caught her eye. With a sigh she put her hair into a bun and stepped into the shower, the steam and spray relaxing her body but doing nothing for the chaos in her head. Wrapping a towel around her lotioned, perfumed body, she went to get her dress for the evening. It was a crimson bandage dress that ended a bit above her knees with a modest yet flattering v-neckline.

The dress was from Brittany's fall collection. She shook her head and smiled as she thought of her friend; who would have guessed that she had such a brilliantly creative mind? _Maybe that's why she didn't have much room for much logic_, Mercedes thought. Brittany S. Pierce was a couture savant of sorts, and the owner of one of the hottest new labels and a trendy Lower East Side boutique. It helped that Santana covered the business side of things- that double major in business and public relations sure came in handy. They were each other's perfect complements in almost every area.

Mercedes slipped on the dress and a pair of black platform pumps before examining herself in the mirror. The dress certainly wasn't meant to hide her curves, and she didn't mind. She grabbed her jewelry box to search for some accessories and paused when her hand touched a familiar piece. Her heart in her throat, she buried the small ring deep in one of the compartments and searched on, settling on simple white gold and diamond drop earrings and a garnet cocktail ring. Mercedes put a deep side part in her dark, wavy hair, pinning it to one side in a style that was vaguely reminiscent of Spain. She decided on a fresh, even face with just a little tinted lip gloss and cat eyed liner with some dramatic lashes. After a last glance in the mirror, she took three deep, slow breaths, and left her room.

Making her way down the stairs, and through a couple of halls she neared the formal dining room. Mercedes heard the clinking of glasses and soft laughter. She knew she had to go in, but she was finding it difficult to make herself do just that. She swallowed, hard, and told herself to stop being such a baby about it. After all, it had been two years since she had even seen him, and two and a half years since their break-up. She leaned against a marble column looking into the room and saw Mike watching Tina affectionately as she told Puck and Kurt a story. They were adults now; she was an adult and she had to be there for her best friend. So why did her Louboutins feel like lead?

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><p>Sam stepped out of the shower refreshed; yet troubled. All the confidence and excitement he had about seeing Mercedes again was quickly turning into anxiety and doubt. Why he had ever thought that she would <em>want<em> to see him, let alone be happy about it, he didn't know. His face flushed with embarrassment as he dried himself off; how cocky could he possibly be to think just because he was successful and easy on the eyes, their meeting and conversation would be easy? He was an idiot.

Humming softly in an effort to distract himself from his thoughts, he went over to the closet. He selected a deep red shirt and a black tie and suit; clean, simple, and fitting for the dress code. Sam quickly dried his hair with a blow dryer, running a brush through the soft blonde locks. Looking in the mirror, he contemplated shaving, but decided against it. _Not because she likes it, _he told himself. But who was he kidding? She was hot for a scruffy man, he knew that much, and he knew he was going to do anything he could to get in good with her tonight.

After making sure his shirt was properly tucked in, he reached for his tie. Draping it around his neck he began to knot it when he suddenly paused and a lump began to form in the back of his throat. Sam unknotted the tie, and threw it on a chair in frustration. Sitting back on the edge of the bed while running his fingers slowly through his hair, he let himself remember that morning.

"_This tie, are you sure?"_

_Sam knew she was gonna get him for questioning her impeccable taste. Being able to rile her up was one his favorite things about living together. When Mercedes told him she wanted to stay in Boston over the summer to play a few local shows and take a few classes, he immediately agreed to spend it with her. After all, he could edit and publish from his laptop from literally anywhere in the world, and what better place than his girlfriend's apartment? They spent their days singing, reading comics, drinking at cozy local spots and of course hours upon hours in bed- lounging, watching movies, cuddling, and more... It had been the greatest month of his life so far, and he felt so blessed to have two more in store._

"_Samuel Evans, I know you are not questioning my fashion sense." Mercedes raised her eyebrow as if daring him to cross her._

_He turned to grin apologetically at his girlfriend and his breath hitched; she was a goddess. Mercedes reclined against the pillows, her long curls spread out beneath her head and shoulders. Bare shoulders- she slept in her underwear most nights, but some nights – like last night – she slept in the buff. The dark gold of her sheets complimented the glowing brown of her skin. The cursed sheet was draped loosely over her torso and dipped lazily between her plump thighs; her entire body illuminated by the golden light that filtered through the window. She might as well have been a painting._

"_Baby…" he snapped to attention to see her staring at him, lust in her eyes, biting lightly on her lower lip. "Do you absolutely _have_ to go to New York today?"_

_He pounced. _

_Catching her lips in rough kiss, he settled between her thighs, grabbing and squeezing them as she locked her legs around his waist. They kissed deeply, hungrily as he almost ripped his shirt trying to get it off. She reached between them and stroked his bulge firmly as she nibbled on his ear. Sam groaned into her neck and felt her reach for his belt buckle when suddenly she stopped._

"_What?" he half yelped in frustration._

_Mercedes looked at him, a smirk on her lips, her lids heavy with passion. "Sammy, " she scolded, "you have a very important meeting to get to. You know what this means for your career if this goes well. " She leaned in to whisper huskily into his ear "Not to say that I don't want you to fuck the daylights out of me right this second, of course." She scooted off the bed and wrapped herself in a satin robe, smiling at the broken groan that escaped her boyfriend's lips._

_Sam grudgingly pushed himself off the bed and started to smooth and button his dress shirt. "Fine, you're right. But that doesn't mean I'm happy about it, and neither is Peter Parker…" he grumbled, giving a little hip thrust for effect, smiling at the little giggle Mercedes tried to stifle. He watched as she approached him with the tie in hand, and started to knot it for him. He loved watching her concentration; the way her eyes gently narrowed and her lips pursed just the slightest bit causing a little dimple in her right cheek._

"_Don't you worry, Mr. Evans," she adjusted the knot and folded his collar back down, "I plan on congratulating you on your inevitably successful meeting…" she practically purred into his hear, nipping gently at his jaw. He grabbed her by the waist and pressed her soft body against his firm torso, giving her a rough kiss goodbye. She turned him towards the door and smacked his ass, winking at him as she made her way to her desk._

With a heavy sigh he adjusted his tie, slipped on his jacket and headed downstairs. Turning the corner in the long corridor, he heard loud laughter coming from the dining room. Thinking he was the last one to arrive, he rushed down the hall, but something made him stop dead in his tracks.- or rather, someone.

Mercedes was leaning against one of the marble columns outside the dining room, facing away from him. He let out a slow breath and tried unsuccessfully to keep from blushing. She looked phenomenal: the way the dress clung to her every curve, the way the heels she wore put that spectacular ass on a pedestal, the way her hair cascaded over her shoulder- it took his breath away. He noted that she was smaller than she was the last time he saw her, but still curvy thank goodness. She just looked toned, and the way the muscles in her back and shoulders gently rippled when she reached to rest her hands on her impressive hips caused a stirring in his pants.

"_Troubletone Jones_," he said softly while approaching her, "it's been a while."

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><p>As soon as she heard his voice, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. He called her Troubletone…she hadn't heard that in a <em>long<em> time. Taking a deep breath and a couple of seconds to steady herself, she turned around to face him.

She wouldn't have been ready for the sight in front of her if she had taken an hour. _Fuck me, he looks so good_, she groaned internally. He filled out that suit so well; he had definitely bulked up in the last two years. His green eyes sparkled and seeing him with a scruffy, rugged face made her nether regions react in a way she wasn't expecting. So what would she say to him after all this time? What words would she use to break the silence?

"Hey Sammy – erm, Sam."

_Smooth, Mercedes, real fucking smooth,_ she chastised herself.

He visibly softened after she greeted him. Mercedes wondered if Sam thought she was going to be hostile towards him, or ignore him. She frowned slightly; she hoped he knew that no matter what she could never be rude or pretend he didn't exist.

"It's nice to see you." Sam's voice cracked slightly on the last word. Clearing his throat, he started over, "You look beautiful tonight. You always did do a dress justice." He smiled softly, but his eyes were full of emotion.

"Thank you…" she practically whispered, suddenly shy. _This is crazy, _she thought to herself, _since when the fuck am I shy? What is he doing to me? _He must have been thinking the same thing, because she looked up to find him staring at her with a slight smirk.

"Look, Sam. I know this is weird for both of us, and difficult – for me at least. So how about we just go in there and have fun with the gang and support our best friends, and not go through all of this now?" Her cheeks burned as he fixed her with a contemplative gaze. Mercedes thought she saw him frown before replying.

"That sounds like a plan." Sam shot her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

They went in, Sam following Mercedes, and were greeted by a chorus of cheers. Mercedes caught Tina's eye and answered her curious expression with an imperceptible shake of her head. She took her seat across from Tina and almost groaned when she saw that Sam's seat was right next to hers, across from Mike.

Deciding to survey the room instead of dwelling on her neighbor, she saw their friends chatting amicably, all dressed beautifully in various shades of red. The spacious dining room had red decorations and candles that added a wonderful warmth to the space; Mercedes especially loved the different sized lanterns that were strung all around the room. She poured herself a glass of wine and had to actively pace herself with reminders to sip slowly; being nervous made her want to swallow the contents of the glass in one gulp.

Once the food was brought out, she relaxed and began to chat with everyone else, recounting stories of her tour for Tina's impressed parents, and laughing at Artie's tales of melodramatic actresses- and she thought _she_ was a diva. Mercedes even engaged in conversation with Sam, albeit in a group context. The night unfolded perfectly; Tina and Mike gave wonderful little speeches about each other and how grateful they were to have people who have been with them since the beginning celebrate this new beginning. Mercedes was in tears by the time they finished, as were all of the girls, even the guys – apart from Kurt and Blaine – were coughing to cover up their sniffling.

Both of their parents followed up with stories of their respective relationships, and how glad they were that their kids found each other because they were truly people who bettered one another. In the middle of their charming stories, Mercedes felt Sam's leg brush up against her bare calf. It felt like a jolt of electricity; she looked over at him ready give him a withering glance, but he had the same expression on his face that she was certain she was sporting. She tried her best to focus on the heartfelt speech that was being given but her body vibrated like there were aftershocks. Glancing furtively over at Sam, she saw that he looked rather distracted as well.

After a delicious meal, good wine, and great conversation, the girls and the guys split up as per the tradition. They weren't allowed to see each other until the ceremony the next day. The girls, of course, had planned to all sleep in one of the rooms with king sized bed- a little pre-wedding slumber party of sorts, but not too late so that the bride could rest. Mercedes went to Tina's room and set up everything she would possibly need to get ready the next day before heading to her room.

As soon as she stepped into her room, she saw her phone light up with a text message alert. It was from Puck.

"_Impromptu pool tournament in rec room," _read the text, "_groomsmen vs. bridesmaids, bring it._"

"Oh, it is so on…" she muttered to herself as she headed down the stairs.

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><p>"Oh hell no, Sam-" Mercedes began, her eyes narrowing at him turning to leave<p>

"Mercy- Mercedes, wait!" he implored, grabbing her gently by the hand and tugging her towards the pool table. She dropped her initial resistance and allowed herself to be led, but glowered at him fiercely.

"I suppose I am correct in assuming the others won't be joining us?" Mercedes inquired dryly.

Sam cringed slightly before addressing her in a pleading tone, "Look, I get it, you're mad at me. But honestly, if I had sent you a text saying 'Hey, let's shoot some pool, have a couple drinks, and talk for the first time in two years' would you have responded?" He watched as she looked away guiltily before shaking her head.

"Okay, you have a point there. But honestly, Sam, what did you expect? After two years of absolute silence when I thought we decided that we would try and be friends-" her voice broke and she choked up. His heart shattered and he silently berated himself for thinking up this stupid plan. What, she was gonna open up to him after an amicable dinner?

"I know, I'm sorry, Mercedes…you'll never know how sorry." His voice was thick with emotion. Clearing his throat, he began, "I know I screwed up, I take responsibility, and I know no amount of verbal apology is going to do." Sam tugged at his hair in frustration and guilt, "But I'm gonna level with you- I miss you. I want to know what I missed, all the wonderful changes you've been going through. And I know we can't possibly catch up in one night, but it's a start. Please, Mercy?" He searched her eyes for a glimmer of hope.

She swallowed and looked down. He watched her absently fidget with her hands and stifled a gasp when he realized what she was doing. When they were together, she used to turn the promise ring he gave her in times of anxiety, or stress, or contemplation. There was no ring, but apparently the action and its comforting result had stuck, because there she was standing in front of him, spinning the ghost of a ring on her finger. Suddenly, Mercedes looked up at him with a guarded expression.

"One game."

Sam paused for a second, deciding whether or not he should try his luck. "Loser owes the winner an answer to any question they ask."

"_Any_ question?" Mercedes lifted an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued.

"Any question." Sam reiterated, confidently.

"Deal. I break." He nodded his consent. "Rack 'em." He set up the balls and stepped back. Chalking her cue, she stepped up to the table, adjusted her shot, and broke, sinking two striped balls in the process.

Sam was beginning to feel that perhaps he hadn't thought this plan through.

He made them whiskey sours and they played, telling each other about their lives, both loosening up and becoming more comfortable with each shot and round. Mercedes chatted enthusiastically about her time touring with Adele and her surprise at being offered the development deal. He told her that he wasn't surprised; she was nothing if not talented. And Sam couldn't help but smile at the excited look on her face when he told her about the success of his company and how much Stevie and Stacey had grown. It earned him an eye roll and a devastating bank shot.

"Excuse me, Miss. When the fuck did you become a pool shark?"

She tossed her hair and shot him a look that caused a stir in his belly. "That? That was nothing." Mercedes shrugged confidently.

"Oh yeah?" Sam met her eyes with a challenging gaze, "Then top it."

Mercedes scoffed as she downed her drink and sauntered towards the table. "Blue ball, corner pocket," she quipped as she swung a silky smooth leg up on the table.

Sam's eyes all but fell out of his head. The thick thigh he had left many a handprint and lovebite on gleamed in the light. His eyes traced the leg from the top of the thigh where the dress had gloriously ridden up to the toned calf ending in the sexy heel. She shot him a smoldering glance before making the shot through the triangle that formed between the table and her slightly bent leg.

Mercedes Jones would be the death of him.

She destroyed him. As soon as the eight ball was sunk, she turned to him, a fire he hadn't expected to see lighting in her eyes. "I win."

"Ask away."

Sam saw pain flash in her eyes before she asked him, in a voice softer than he expected, "How easy was it to forget about me?"

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><p>Mercedes groaned when the sunlight hit her eyes. Having that third whiskey sour after half a bottle of wine was probably not her best decision. She rolled over brushing her hair out of her eyes and savoring the warmth of the sunlight and the way the sheets felt on her bare skin. She rolled over to grab her phone and check the time, but she couldn't find it. Suddenly she heard the click of the doorknob turning and sat up, grabbing the sheets to make sure she was covered.<p>

"Rise and shine, Troubletone." A sheepishly grinning Sam entered, a mug of coffee in each hand. "Still two creams and one sugar, right?"

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><p><strong>BAM! How's that for a cliffhanger, eh? Don't worry, the answer to that question will be addressed.<strong>

**For those of you wanting to know why they broke up, it's coming, soon, I promise!**

**As well as a bit of smut ;)**

**If you enjoyed what you just read, I would love it if you took a couple minutes to leave a review! Tell me what you loved/didn't love or what you're waiting for/want to happen!**

**-Em**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: On first page**

**A/N: Sorry this took so long to post. I was going to post it last night, but something came up. To make up for it, I lengthened this chapter a thousand words! Thank you guys for the continued positive response, I love reading and responding to your reviews, it makes me feel connected. Enjoy!**

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><p>Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Sam woke up to see the first rays of the day peeking through the curtains. He frowned, slightly; it was just a reminder that soon he would have to let the beautiful girl peacefully slumbering in his arms go. Drawing her closer to him, he buried his face in her soft hair, smiling when he realized she still used the same lavender shampoo.<p>

_Some things don't change, _he thought to himself. Sam always woke up about twenty minutes before she did, and fell asleep about twenty minutes after. He never understood why their clocks worked like that, but he didn't mind- in fact, he liked it that way. He liked to think that it was his inner gentleman letting her drift off first and then waking up to watch over her in the morning.

But he understood that this was not just a regular morning; they were not dating, they weren't even speaking to each other until twelve hours ago. He really could not predict how Mercedes would react to this, though something told him it would not be nearly as well as he had. He was surprised with how quickly she had warmed up to him last night, but they both had a bit of liquid courage in their system, so who knew?

Sam decided to savor whatever time he had before they would need to confront the issue. He couldn't help but notice that her body still melted into his; her back to his front, the perfect spooning partners. They hadn't even fallen asleep in that position, it was as if their bodies had memories of all those nights and naturally shifted. He trailed the lightest touch across the soft skin of her arm and smiled as she snuggled back closer to him- it was remarkable, like they hadn't been apart a day.

He lay there enjoying the feel of her soft, warm body and rhythmic breathing- it was almost soothing. He hadn't realized how much he had missed this; it used to be one of his favorite parts of the day. Listening to the sounds of her slumber, he let his eyes wander around the room. When he saw it, it immediately took him back.

_It was the summer he stayed with her in Boston. He was sitting at the desk, editing a new comic submission when she burst through the door of the small apartment, frustrated. Sam stifled a laugh when she dropped her bag and flopped back on their bed, melodramatically. "What's wrong, babe?" he inquired, only to receive a grunt in reply. Saving his work, he climbed onto the bed and pulled her into his lap. "Tell me," he coaxed, kissing the top of her head._

"_You know the class I'm taking on branding?" she began, with an exasperated sigh, "Professor Davidson says that if I want to be a memorable artist, I need something more." Mercedes let her head drop back onto Sam's shoulder, "I mean, I have a nearly four octave vocal range, I write and arrange my own music, and I'm a classically trained pianist, all while being black and fabulous," she huffed, "if that doesn't set me apart, nothing will."_

_Sam looked down at her, biting back a grin. "You are something else, Mercy. Unique and talented with a style all your own, never forget that." He thought a minute, and his face lit up. "Babe, I got it!"_

_Mercedes turned around to face him, her legs in his lap. "You've got what?" she asked, her curious expression tinged with suspicion. _

"_Right now," he began, "you're honing your skill to become a specific type of artist, right?" Seeing her nod her head, he continued, "What if there could be a duality to that?" He gently removed her legs from his lap before going and picking up his guitar._

"_How?"_

"_Mercy, if I taught you to play this, think of the possibilities: you would have the ability to be that powerful balladeer who strokes the ivory keys _and_ the warm artist who makes sold out stadiums feel like intimate shows because of the way she croons while strums on her guitar." He sat back, satisfied._

_She stared at him for a minute, blankly. He was afraid she hated the idea when he saw a tear roll down her face. His breath caught in his chest as he reached over and wiped it off, starting to apologize for his stupid idea when she swatted at his hand. "Samuel Evans don't you dare apologize!"_

"_I thought-"_

"_You, my love, are a genius. And if you can stand having a stubborn, melodramatic, know-it-all like me as a student, I'd love for you to teach me." She grabbed his hands and smiled at him, her big brown eyes filled with tears. His heart swelled and all he could do was kiss her._

_Thus began three months of almost daily guitar lessons; his girlfriend was a fast learner. She picked up and mastered the basics in a little over two weeks. Her professor loved the idea, and he was thrilled. Not only did he get to watch her grow as an artist, he had a hand in that growth. It made him feel important and needed, and helped them grow even closer._

_Which is why, when her birthday rolled around in August about two weeks before he had to go back to school, Sam knew exactly what he was going to give her. What he hadn't anticipated was her refusal to accept it._

"_Sam!" Mercedes looked at him like he was crazy. "There is no way in hell I can accept this, you know that!"_

_He gave her a look of mock exasperation. "Mercy, you learned to play – quite masterfully, might I add – on this guitar, and I love you, so I want you to have it."_

"_That guitar is like your child, Sam!" Mercedes shook her head vigorously, hair flying. "I can go buy a guitar, it's not a big deal." She looked up at him with so much concern in her eyes that it made his heart ache, "That guitar is what got you through some of the most difficult times in your life," she said softly, "I can't take that from you."_

_Taking her gently by the shoulders, he looked her straight in the eye, "Mercedes Jones, all I need in this life is for you to go through it with me, happy and healthy. I don't consider this giving away my guitar, because as long as I have you, I'll also have it. I just want you to succeed, Troubletone." He stroked her cheek softly, "But I know that your success means us being apart sometimes. This way you'll always have a piece of me, and I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that in some small way, I'll have been a part of every step of that experience- even when I can't physically be there. So stop fussin', ya hear?" he drawled, getting a nod and sniffle-filled giggle from his girl._

Sam placed a tender kiss on her exposed shoulder before gently rolling off the bed and placing pillows where his body had been.

Mercedes would be not be a happy camper without her morning coffee, especially after a night like the last one. So he put on a shirt and some shorts and padded barefoot down the stairs to the kitchen. Sam found the cook prepping the breakfast platters that would be sent up to their rooms and asked if he could trouble him for a couple of mugs of coffee. Succeeding, he cautiously brought the mugs back up in the elevator, fearful of a spill, and cringed when the loud ding sounded upon reaching the top floor- he hoped it hadn't woken her.

Carefully carrying both mugs in his left hand, he opened the door gently as so not to wake her. To his surprise, Mercedes was already awake, sitting up and staring right back at him. She was a beautiful mess: hair slightly rumpled, wide-eyed and mouth gaping with a sheet clutched to her chest- he couldn't help but smile. "Rise and shine, Troubletone. Still two creams and one sugar, right?" Sam asked, placing the mug in her hands and not letting go until he was sure she had it. Mercedes took a long sip and stared intently into her mug before speaking.

"Good morning," she said quietly, placing her coffee on the nightstand and smoothing her hair into a single braid.

Sam moved to sit on the bed and frowned slightly when he noticed her tense up, almost imperceptibly. He decided not to broach the subject of last night quite so immediately. "Is the coffee okay?"

"It's fine, thank you," she replied, stiffly.

_Fuck she's shutting me out already?_ He thought to himself, panicking slightly. "Listen, about last night, it-"

"Was a mistake? I know," she said dryly, staring fixedly at the opposite wall.

Taken aback, he tried to correct her. "No, I just don't want-"

"Anyone to see you leave? I agree. You should go back down to your room before the others start to wake up. Your clothes are on the chair." Mercedes sounded like a robot.

"Mercy…" he said softly, not believing what he was hearing. She turned to look at him, and the hurt in her eyes was like a knife in the chest. Without another word he gathered his clothes and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

* * *

><p>As soon as she heard him padding away from the door, she collapsed into a sob. She slid under the covers and tried to get a little more sleep, but the pillow smelled like him: like Old Spice, and his cologne and something distinctly Sam. Mercedes practically flung herself out of bed and reached for a robe, barely tying it before Santana burst into her room. "Don't you knock, bitch?" she barked at the Latina.<p>

"Only on alternate Saturdays," she replied sarcastically, "I guess you're shit outta luck." She sat on the edge of the bed; legs crossed, and raised an eyebrow at her visibly shaken friend. "So what's got you actin' like me?"

Mercedes was not in the mood to be interrogated by or share feelings with _anyone_ at the moment, let alone a sarcastic, nosy Santana. "Nothing, alright?" she snapped, angrily.

"Is that so?"

Quite honestly, she was surprised Santana hadn't snapped back at her yet. That girl was known for her incredibly short fuse when it came to anyone except Brittany. She was also surprised she was pushing her buttons; they had been friends for a long time, and she knew to back off when she was being snippy. Mercedes turned to face her, hands on hips. "Yes. Nothing." She went back to organizing things for her shower.

"So I guess the fact that I just saw Sam slink away from your room like a dejected puppy with his tail tucked between his legs in nothing but his shirt and shorts while carrying his clothes from the previous night is _nothing_…" she said matter-of-factly while examining her nails.

Mercedes froze, her stomach sinking. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"Brittbrat always has a craving for Belgian waffles the morning after a long night of _fun_," Santana's eyes twinkled mischievously, "I was about to go down to the kitchen and make sure she would have some when I saw Trouty leave your room and walk down the stairs. Wanky."

Mercedes flopped down onto the bed next to Santana and let out a long breath, her face in her hands.

Santana softened, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Hey there, Wheezy. I didn't mean to make you upset, I just wanted to see if you were okay. I mean you guys go from that tragic breakup, to not speaking to…"

Snapping her head up, she glared at Santana "I'm fine, not that it's really any of your fucking business anyway…" she mumbled.

"Excuse you, Grumpy, but it is my business. When one of my best friends looks like she's been crying after her ex boyfriend leaves her room at the crack of dawn, that's my business. Don't you fucking tell me that it's not!" She cupped her friend's cheek and tilted her head up at her, "I love you, okay? I'm on your side."

Mercedes looked at her, contrite. "I'm sorry, San. It's just so confusing and awkward and I just thought for a second-" She paused, choked up and teary eyed, "I thought he-" the rest of her words were swallowed by loud, broken sobbing.

Santana was taken aback by her usually composed friend's emotion. Taking her in her arms, she held her until she calmed down. "Cede, what _happened_?" she asked, once she was able to speak.

It all came spilling out. Their first encounter before dinner, having to sit next to him, the electric leg brush, the fake text from Puck, the confrontation, the game of pool. All of it.

"_How easy was it to forget about me?" Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, she immediately regretted asking the question. Vulnerability was not something she enjoyed, but she just _had_ to know. Glancing up, she saw Sam had paled considerably and looked positively stricken. Her heart sunk. "That easy, huh?" She turned to leave before her tears fell when he gingerly placed his hand on her shoulder._

"_Mercy…" he croaked. Sam looked like he was either about to cry or yell; his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were wide and wet with tears beneath his furrowed brows. "What kind of question is that?"_

"_A damn good one!" she snapped, her own eyes brimming with tears. Fuck, she hated crying. "Especially when your 'friend' drops off the face of the fucking earth!"_

_He sighed heavily, fixing her with a powerful gaze. She could barely tell if he was angry or sad. "That's fair." He broke the stare. "'You have to promise me that you will hear me out; no interruptions." Sam looked at her expectantly._

_Not trusting her words in the moment, Mercedes swallowed painfully and nodded._

_With a sigh, he sat miserably on a bar stool and raked his hand roughly through his hair, tugging at the tufts in the back before starting. "For a while after the day we broke up, I was a bundle of contradiction. I missed you so terribly that I was in physical pain, but my male pride told me that giving you that ultimatum was the right thing to do, that I was just protecting myself." He looked down guiltily, not daring to meet her eyes._

"_After a couple of months I allowed myself to think about it, really think about it. I realized how fucking ridiculous I had been. I had asked way too much of you, especially when you already gave me so much." She took a seat on the neighboring stool and watched him grasp the edge of the bar until his knuckles were white. "Had I not been a moron, we probably could have moved on from it and been together, or at the very least be friends. By the time I got over myself and gathered the courage to contact you, I heard from Mike and Tina that you were leaving for London in a month." He sighed and looked up to meet her eyes for the first time since he began the explanation._

"_After all I put you through, and then all the silence as I sorted myself out…I thought it would be really selfish of me to pop up and demand we start talking and fixing things right as you were starting a new journey. Besides, I figured you hated me." Sam laughed mirthlessly, and the regret in his eyes was making Mercedes' heart ache. "I was ashamed of my selfishness and cowardice. I was no longer a man that I wanted you to know, and I figured you'd be better off without me." He took her hand, and she let him._

"_That is the honest to God truth, Mercy. I never forgot about you, not for one day. With each passing day that we didn't speak, I beat myself up about it more and more. If anything, the more time passed the more you filled my thoughts and dreams." Sam fixed her with a gaze so sincere she felt her cheeks grow warm. "It hurts me that you could ever think that I would forget you. You, Mercedes Jones, are unforgettable. Don't you dare doubt that." _

_She stared at her feet, taking a minute to let it all sink in. He hadn't ignored her; in fact he couldn't get her out of his head…was that even possible? Mercedes thought for sure that he had forgotten she existed and moved on. But he hadn't; yes, he had his issues that he had to work through, but he did that, and the only thing that kept them from connecting was timing. _Timing._ She looked up, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes meeting his._

_He crushed her lips in what had to be the most bittersweet kiss they have ever shared._

"Santana Lopez, is that a tear?" Mercedes couldn't believe her eyes.

"Shut up, Cede! That damn boy and his beautiful fucking words…" she sniffled, composing herself. "So wait, he kissed you! And you ended up here? And-"

"Yes." She sighed, looking away.

Santana seethed. "Who _the fuck_ does he think he is treating you like a booty call and leaving you to wake up alone? I'm gonna slice those stupid pink pillows off of his-"

"Santana!"

"What?" She was in a blind rage. "He spouted all of that apology shit and then hurt you all over again!" She went on one of her infamous Spanish tirades in which Mercedes was pretty sure she called Sam a few choice names.

"Santana!" Her friend stopped to look at her, cheeks red and eyes flashing with anger. "It wasn't exactly like that…"

"Then what was it like?"

"We, um…" Mercedes began to fiddle with her braid, suddenly shy. _Damn this boy and his ability to make me into some meek little mouse_ she said to herself. "We kinda made love." She practically whispered the last part.

Santana squinted at her. "I figured that much when he left your room in his boxers."

"No, I don't mean it as 'we just had sex'. We made slow, passionate, emotionally connected, mind blowing love." She paused, looking down at her hands. "And he only left me in the morning to go down and get me coffee." Mercedes sighed, looking up at a shocked Santana. "He even remembered exactly how I take it, two creams and a sugar." She saw the understanding register in her friends face.

"That was harder." She saw her friend nod, distraught. "It was harder for you because you're not together, and it would have been better if he had just banged you and left because you wouldn't have had to feel." Santana softened and rubbed Mercedes' back in gentle circles.

"I still love him, San…"she whispered.

"I know, love. I know."

* * *

><p>Sam nearly slammed the door to his room before remembering that Mike was sleeping next door. He caught himself and closed it gently. He punched the heavy wooden dresser, knowing the sharp pain that radiated in his knuckles would be the only thing to help him release his anger. Sucking on the cut the metal drawer pull gave him, he sat on the bed.<p>

He hurt her. After two years of regret, months of painstakingly going over what he could possibly say to her to make her understand, and the miracle of miracles that was her consenting to spend time alone with him, he fucked it all up. That look in her eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life. As if the impersonal, monotonous tone in which she spoke to him coupled with that hollow look of pain in her eyes weren't enough, he was almost certain he heard a sob right before he descended the steps. He made her _cry_- he hated his own fucking guts right now, and had no doubt that she hated him as well.

Sam punched the dresser a second time, without thinking. Gasping in pain when he realized that he did it with the injured hand, he decided to drag his pathetic self into a shower. When the spray hit his cut, he winced. Somehow feeling physical pain helped him organize his thoughts, which on any other occasion was beneficial. Currently, however, it didn't matter whether his thoughts were organized or jumbled; they were miserable. He was miserable. He ruined all the ground he made because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

He knew Mercedes wasn't one of those girls who can just fuck an ex without emotional repercussions- her sensitivity is what he loved about her. And she wasn't just some ex he wanted to fuck 'for old times' sake' or anything; she meant so much to him. Not that his actions reflected that, of course. _To think I ever imagined she would take me back_, he thought to himself, bitterly. Not anymore. He'd be surprised if she even made eye contact with him after the way he treated her.

Stepping out of the shower, Sam dried himself off and stepped into a pair of boxers. Putting away the clothes he wore the night before, he took his suit out of the garment bag and laid it out before heading to the bathroom to blow his hair dry. He stepped back into the bedroom, only to be greeted by a smiling Puck seated comfortably on the foot of his bed. "What the fuck, man!" he exclaimed, startled.

"I knocked twice but you were pretty boy primping in the bathroom so I let myself in," he said, matter-of-factly. "So how'd it go with hot Mama last night? She was lookin' mighty fine in that dress-"

"I told you a thousand times, don't call her that," he growled, turning to close the closet door.

"Fair enough. But I just thought I'd let you know that I already know how it went. Your back looks like a scratchpost."

Sam spun around, his face hot. He totally forgot about his back. "Yes, Puck, good job. We had sex. I may have hurt her and alienated her permanently, but, hey, what does that matter, right?" He glowered in the direction of his mohawked friend.

Puck shot him a sympathetic look. "Dude, I had no idea, I didn't mean- I just thought you guys had sex after making up and getting back together or something. I'm sorry, what happened?"

After letting out a breath, Sam turned back to his friend. "It's fine, man. I didn't meant to blow up on you like I did." He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. "It's just that I didn't even think she'd agree to spend time with me. But she did, and we had fun. And holy shit, Puck, you didn't warn me! She's always been beautiful but she just looks phenomenal."

Puck grinned. "Yeah, she is looking extra fine nowadays. If you weren't my boy…"

"Don't make me hurt you." Sam shot him a warning look. "Anyway, we even talked about the post break up weirdness and were in a good place."

"So what happened?"

"I kissed her. And it snowballed from there."

_Pulling away from the kiss, Sam silently berated himself. How could he kiss her so soon? Didn't he have _any_ self-control? He apologized and walked over to the pool table._

_Mercedes followed him and leaned against the table, looking up at him with a smirk. "I'm not sorry," she said simply._

_He stepped towards her, almost closing the gap between their bodies. There was a beat where he was sure she wouldn't respond, but then she placed her hands gingerly on his chest, and looked up at him, and he saw a question in those big brown eyes. _

_He knew the answer to that question._

_Sam wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her tenderly. He felt her tremble when he ran his fingertips down the warm, exposed skin on her back. Deepening the kiss he took a chance and grabbed her by her hips, lifting her onto the pool table and kissing down her neck, sucking gently on the spot where it met her shoulder._

_Mercedes moaned breathlessly, tilting her head back in ecstasy as her hand slid down his muscular back. He felt himself grow hard; he had forgotten how sexy her moans were. She pulled him closer, wrapping her luscious thighs around his waist and pressing his growing bulge against her hot center. He sucked on her full lips and groaned in pleasure when she started to grind her soaking crotch against him._

"_Sam…" she moaned, "upstairs. Now."_

_They ran to the elevator, both not at all certain their legs could carry them up the stairs at that moment. As soon as the doors shut, he pressed her against the wall, kissing her breathlessly until he heard the ding. He picked her up and carried her through the doorway, their lips never parting. _

_Laying her down on the bed, he broke their kiss to strip down. Mercedes shot him a look that made his hard cock twitch before unzipping her dress to reveal a black lace thong, and nothing else. He almost drooled. _

_She laid against the pillows, beckoning him with her eyes. He caught her lips in a rough kiss, palming her full breasts. As they kissed his hand traveled down her body, caressing her waist, stomach, and hips. He stroked her dripping folds as she moaned into his mouth and ground her hips against his hands. Sam knew what she wanted, and he would give it to her, just not yet._

_He placed slow, agonizing kisses on the underside of her jaw, down her neck, and across her collarbone; he relished feeling her writhe from his torturous teasing. Sucking a hard nipple into his mouth he licked and nibbled on it and its twin before trailing a straight line down her stomach, stopping right above her clit. Mercedes' hips bucked as she begged him to go on. Sam kissed up and down her quivering inner thighs, the scent of her arousal beckoning him._

_She nearly shot off the bed when he took her little pink clit into his mouth and sucked. Swirling his tongue around her button, he plunged a finger, and then two fingers into her gushing center and worked her into a frenzy. Mercedes moaned his name over and over as she came, and he licked up every last drop. He kissed her, and she deepened the kiss. She always did love the way she tasted, and he didn't blame her._

_By this time he was aching for a release. Sam entered her slowly, groaning at how deliciously tight she was. He pumped slowly at first, leaning down to kiss her. He almost came when she nibbled and sucked on his ear. Sam pulled out, about to fuck her senseless when she flipped him over, straddling him. Mercedes looked him straight in the eyes while she guided his throbbing cock back into her and began to ride him._

_He almost lost his mind. She tightened her walls massaging him as she grinded and fucked him, slowing down when she sensed he was about to cum, then speeding up, returning every bit of delicious torture. _

_They fucked for hours in different positions, enjoying the feel of their bare skin together. The relished the light, dizzying caresses, breathlessly whispered I love you's, and waves of pleasure; each orgasm bringing them closer to each other, bridging the gap. He couldn't remember when, but he knew they both fell asleep in blissful exhaustion._

"Bummer."

"What?" Sam snapped back to his present conversation, dazed.

Puck smiled knowingly. "You were thinking about last night, weren't you?"

"Man, shut up and get the hell outta my room." He threw a towel at his grinning friend.

"Alright." Puck stood up to leave. "But know this, if this night meant anything to you, and it did, it probably means three times as much to her. So after her initial freak out, something tells me she'll probably talk to you. All isn't lost." He left, closing the door behind him.

"I hope so…"Sam muttered to himself, as he began to get dressed.

* * *

><p>"Alright, sweetie." Santana got up to leave. "I gotta go get Britt her waffles and get ready and all that. But know this: this isn't a situation that cannot be fixed with communication." She walked to the door and spotted something; bending down to pick it up, she threw it to Mercedes with a smile. "There's your conversation starter." She closed the door behind her.<p>

Mercedes caught the object; it was a wallet, his wallet. She knew she shouldn't be snooping, but something told her to open it. _Besides, _she reasoned with herself,_ it's his wallet. It's not like I'm reading his texts or emails or something. _Opening it she found the usual: a few bills, cards, pictures of Stevie and Stacey. She noticed a little compartment parallel with the card slots. When she opened it, little pieces of paper flew out.

Bending down to pick them up, she read them and straightened up, shocked. Mercedes had to talk to Sam, and she had to talk to him now. She was just about to go out the door when Tina burst in.

"Cede, you're not even showered yet! How are you gonna have time to curl my hair?"

With a sigh she headed to the bathroom, her mind still racing. How could he have possibly acquired those stubs?

* * *

><p><strong>I gave you <em>some<em> answers, see? :)**

**And sorry if the smut was terrible, it's my first time. (pun intended)**

**Next chapter you get to find out how and why they broke up, so stay tuned!**

**As always, I appreciate it when you guys leave comments/suggestions/questions/love in the reviews!**

**-Em**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: On first page**

**A/N: Hey all! It's been a while since my last update, I usually do it about twice a week. Things have just been crazy between school and other things. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I want to thank you for your continued support. Every time I get a notification of an alert or review I feel incredibly lucky to be sharing this with you all.**

**Flashbacks are in italics.**

* * *

><p>"There, finished!" Mercedes carefully rewound the last curl she took off the curling iron and pinned the loop onto Tina's head before lightly misting the pinned curls with hairspray. "We'll take them down about half an hour before our pre-ceremony pictures so they have time to set and hold. I know how your hair likes to forget it was ever curled after an hour or so." She flashed her friend a grin while starting on her make-up.<p>

"Cede, you're the absolute best. I know I've been saying that a lot lately, but it's true. When the hair and make-up person cancelled on me a couple days ago I almost lost my shit." Tina let out a breath at the exasperating memory. "If you weren't so good at this kind of thing, I don't even know what I'd do."

"Lucky for you, you don't have to find out." Mercedes chuckled while dusting her friend's cheeks with a rosy blush. "Alright, fresh and natural, just like you wanted." She handed her the bride a mirror, satisfied when she saw her delighted expression.

"Holy shit, Mercedes…I look so good!"

"You were already beautiful with that fantastic skin, so it was easy. Just wait until the whole thing comes together!"

"I can't believe this is actually happening…" Tina trailed off looking up at her maid of honor with a small smile. "I would have said yes to that fool in high school, you know?" She looked down, shyly playing with the hem of her silk dressing gown. "I can't begin to imagine my life without him."

Mercedes' heart swelled; she could honestly say that she didn't know another couple their age that had the same deep, enduring love Mike and Tina shared. _Well, at least a couple that was still together, anyway. _Ignoring the nagging ache in her chest, she turned to her friend. "And you will never have to." She squeezed Tina's shoulder lovingly as the bride grinned up at her.

"Alright, I'm gonna go get dressed. My mom is so excited about getting that moment with me; you know, zipping up the dress and crying about my bridal beauty, blah blah blah." She stood up to leave with a twinkle in her eye. "I'm expecting you guys to meet me in my suite in an hour so we can take a few shots before the ceremony." She leaned in to hug her friend and pulled away, inspecting her face with a quizzical look.

"What?"

"I'm not sure, really. You seem…conflicted, maybe? Like, you're glowing, Cede, but you also seem a bit disturbed. Is everything okay?"

Mercedes shifted uncomfortably. _Of_ _course_ her best friend would be able to read her despite all of the hectic wedding happenings. But there was no way she would burden her with something like last night at a time like this. "I'm fine, T, really…" she said quietly, squeezing her hand. Tina shot her a skeptical look, but thankfully left it alone and headed out of the room.

She sat back in her chair and tugged on her braid in contemplation. All the urgency she felt about going to talk to Sam a little while ago was replaced by anxiety. She all but kicked him out of bed a couple of hours ago after he woke up early and got her coffee. Not to mention the fact that he put it on her all night long. Mercedes sank back in the chair as she lost herself in vivid flashbacks of sweaty, passionate sex. A sharp rapping on the door jolted her out of both the reverie and her seat.

Santana peeked in the room, her hair in hot curlers, eyes narrowed. "I dare you to make one comment about my head, Weezy. One little quip." When she didn't get the sarcastic retort she expected, she came into the room. Her heart sank when she saw Mercedes' expression. Sitting down on the bed across from her and taking her hands, she spoke to her softly. "_Dime lo que pasó, nena."_

Mercedes looked up weakly. "I was so ready to talk to him, San. _Excited_ even."

"Then what happened? You didn't talk to him?"

"No. Tina came in freaking out about her hair. She doesn't know anything and I sure as hell wasn't about to tell her today."

Santana sat back at the unexpected hitch. "But you _are_ going to talk to him today, right? I mean the man must know he's missing his wallet by now, and I am pretty sure he knows where he left it."

"I will…eventually. I mean…" Mercedes stood up and began to pace aimlessly around the room, drawing her robe tighter about her body. "I _was_ ready. But I didn't think it through." She paused, turning to face Santana with worry in her eyes. "San, I kicked that boy outta my bed. He might not take kindly to any inquiries I have, let alone those regarding the contents of his wallet."

The latina walked up to her distraught friend, gripping her shoulders firmly before running assuring strokes up and down her arms. "Mercedes Jones," she began, "that boy is so fucking sprung, you have no idea. You'd have to do a whole lot more than have an understandable freakout because you slept together after seeing each other for the first time in _years_." A smirk tugged the corner of her lips as she scoffed. "Trust me."

"I suppose you're right," Mercedes conceded, glancing up at Santana. "After all, if anyone knows about being sprung, it's you." She bit back a laugh at the stricken look on her friend's face.

"_Excuse me?"_

"Waffles."

"Shut up." Santana shot her a playful scowl as she opened the door to leave.

"Get out Satan. I have to get dressed."

"I'm leaving, _I'm leaving_."

"San?" She watched the lithe girl peek back into the room. "Thanks again."

"Anything for you. You know that."

Mercedes grabbed her phone from the vanity and took a deep breath before scrolling through her contacts to find Sam's name. The cursor of the empty dialog box blinked menacingly as she tried to compose the perfect text message in her head. She needed to send something that conveyed how badly they needed to talk without sounding desperate or weird.

After the seventh draft she was certain it was as good as it was going to get. Mercedes held her breath and pressed send before throwing her phone on the bed like it suddenly burned her fingers. Realizing that waiting around for a reply would drive her crazy, she decided to go shower and get ready. If he decided to respond, it would be there when she got out. If not…well, she tried not to think about that possibility as she stepped into the spray.

Twenty minutes later, Mercedes emerged clean but anxious. She glanced at the smartphone lying on her bed, silently willing it to have a positive response in its inbox. She went to grab it, swallowing hard, heart racing when she turned on her heel and reached for her body butter instead. _I'll give him a few more minutes, _she reasoned with herself_. _After she was soft and smelling of lavender and sage, Mercedes forced herself to check her texts.

"_Sure thing. I have to get my wallet back sometime, right? :)"_

She sagged with relief for a moment before getting up to finish dressing. He wasn't shutting her out, and that was the most important thing.

* * *

><p>"You dressed?" came Puck's muffled inquiry.<p>

"Yeah, man. Come on in." Sam stood in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting and readjusting his tie.

"You look fine. She'll think you're hot whether your tie is crooked or not."

"Shut up, Puckerman."

Puck sat, an amused smirk on his face. "Don't get all touchy with me. That's what Cede is f-"

"DUDE."

"Okay, okay, sorry." His face softened as he regarded his friend's anxious demeanor. "She hasn't talked to you yet, huh?"

"Not so much as a text," Sam admitted.

Puck paused. "She will talk to you. You're freaking out, but you know that." He walked over to his friend, leaning against the large dresser. "If Quinn and I found a way to forgive each other, you guys can at least have conversation. What you two shared – and still share, whether you believe it or not – has always been a thousand times more stable." He chuckled, fondly. "And if we worked our way back to being together, there's hope for anyone."

Sam stared at his friend. It was true. No matter how hopeless he felt about their situation, it wasn't over. He won her back from another man once, for crying out loud. There was nothing in his way this time, save for his own awkwardness. Sam knew he had a tendency to be intense about things, but he couldn't help it. When he wanted something, he went for it. That's what made him a great businessman, and part of what made him a great boyfriend. Unlike business, however, in love there is more to consider than quantitative gain.

"…so I told him we'd meet him there in ten minutes or so."

"Wait, what?" Sam blinked. Apparently he'd lost himself in thought, because Puck hadn't stopped talking.

"I _said_, I told Chang we'd meet him in his suite for a pre-wedding drink and mini GQ style photo shoot. I mean, look at us; if we don't belong on some damn magazine cover I don't know who does," he remarked, flexing.

Sam simply shook his head. "Never had a self-esteem problem eh, Noah?" But it was true. The sleek, tailored suits they wore (Armani, courtesy of Brittany's contacts) made them look every bit the models Puck claimed they were. He smiled to himself- Mercedes always did have a weakness for a man in a suit.

"Me? Never." Puck grinned. "Now c'mon, we've gotta meet the others."

"Alright. Let me just grab my wallet." Sam looked in both pockets of the pants he wore the previous night, and it wasn't there. It wasn't in his jacket pocket, nightstand, or anywhere in the room for that matter. Realizing where he must have left it, he felt a surge of hope. He turned to his mohawked friend. "I left it in her room," he said with a smile.

"You sly dog…"

"It wasn't on purpose, but I'll take it."

"Let's drink to that!" They walked down the hall to Mike's suite.

The testosterone filled pow wow was just what they needed. Sam was glad to see how relaxed his best friend looked; not that he thought Mike would be anything but happy. They palled around, partaking in a smooth scotch old enough to be their father, and had photos taken- some classic, some more on the silly side. There was excitement in the air and a warm feeling of brotherhood flowed through the gathering. Sam was sitting comfortably in an armchair about to take a swig of his drink when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

"_Hey, can we talk after the ceremony? Please? It's important._"

Sam let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, as relief washed over him. She wanted to talk. He might not like what she has to say, but that's a chance he was more than willing to take. With shaking fingers he managed to type out a response that he hoped was light hearted enough. Catching Puckerman's eye, he gestured with his phone and smiled to let him know. Sam sank back into the chair and took a deep sip of his scotch, relishing the way the smoothness led to the gentlest bite before manifesting in a rolling warmth.

He looked around the room, smiling at the heart to heart Mike seemed to be having with his father. Suddenly, he noticed Finn was missing- he could have sworn he saw him just a second ago. Thinking he stepped out for some air, he went out to look for him, only to end up tripping over him as soon as he opened the suite door. He was sitting, slumped against the wall in the hallway, staring at his phone with an unreadable expression. Sam gently cleared his throat, shooting his friend a curious look. "What's wrong?"

Finn swallowed, hard. "Um, Rachel just texted me." He was starting to look a little green. "She's here."

Sam winced. That couldn't be easy for him, or Tina for that matter. "I'm sorry, man. It must be tough seeing as you guys broke up recently." He hoped she didn't start any drama, though that seemed to be her middle name.

"Sam…" Finn trailed off in a broken voice.

"What? What is it?"

Finn looked up at him worry in his eyes. "She…she thinks she might be pregnant."

* * *

><p>Mercedes crinkled her nose at the tickle from the bubbles in the champagne. Everyone looked perfect, especially Tina. Her dress (Vera Wang – which she argued to her mother was "Asian-ish") was elegant, classic, and simple; the sleek, strapless dress was silk overlaid with delicate lace in a charming ivory color. Tina, proving to be quite the fashionista, had also somehow picked a universally flattering shade of grey that enhanced each girl's features. Kurt raved about how gorgeous they looked the second they all gathered in the bridal suite.<p>

He of course looked dapper in his charcoal suit, but she expected that. They had a wonderful shoot with the photographer who took shots they were sure they'd cherish for a long time to come. They spent the hour giggling, sipping champagne and being gorgeous. Mercedes had taken Tina aside to talk to her, just to make sure there weren't any jitters. But, true to form, the only thing the bride felt was excitement and happiness; she was ready. So they headed down to the sunroom that sat behind the part of the garden that was set up for the ceremony.

The party surveyed the setup from behind the glass of the sunroom- it was breathtaking. The little clearing in the lush garden had rows of chairs with pristine white satin bows across the backs and a white runner leading up to a small platform. Over the platform was a wooden arch woven with white flowers and ribbon. In the sunroom, on a low table, were the girls' flowers. Five small bunches of creamy white roses, stems gathered and wrapped in white satin, and Tina's bigger bouquet. The party chatted excitedly as they watched the guests arrive and take their seats.

"We're here!" Emma Schuester walked into the room with a shy little girl clutching her hand. "Lily, go give Ms. Tina a big hug!" The four year old peeked out shyly from behind her mother until she spotted the bride. Auburn curls bouncing, she ran and hugged her.

"Ms. Tina, you're gettin' married today!" the young girl exclaimed, blue eyes twinkling.

Tina chuckled, planting a kiss on the girls rosy cheek. "That's right cutie pie. And you are gonna be the best flower girl ever. You're already the prettiest, with that adorable little dress." The girls laughed as they watched Lily blush and duck her head.

"Don't you all look so beautiful? Especially the bride," Emma embraced Tina. "I am so happy for you two. I've told you this before, but I've always had a feeling about you guys. This is wonderful." The women exchanged warm smiles.

"Ms. Tina, Charlie says that I'm gonna trip when I'm spreadin' the flowers down the aisle, but I told him he's just bein' mean." Lily twisted her face in an adorable scowl.

Tina bent down to pinch the girl's cheek. "Brothers can be mean, huh?" She bit back a laugh as Lily nodded vigorously. "_Especially_ twin brothers. But don't listen to him, you'll do great."

"Alright, ladies. I'm heading out to sit with Will, just call me if anything happens. I left a little wristlet with anti-bacterial wipes for Lily just in case." She smiled and walked out into the garden.

A few minutes later, the harpist and judge were in place, and Mike and Sam walked down the aisle to their places on the platform. Mercedes' stomach flipped when she saw Sam in that suit. _That boy will be the death of me,_ she thought. The groomsmen and Tina's father came into the sunroom to pair up with their bridesmaids (or daughter, in Mr. Chang's case) and walk down the aisle. As soon as the harpist began to play, the couples went out, each waiting 30 seconds after the last.

Mercedes smiled as she watched as Kurt and Blaine walked down the aisle, Kurt's arm tucked lovingly into the crook of Blaine's elbow. She loved those two so much; she hoped that maybe this time next year she'll be watching them get married. They were followed by a strutting Puck and glamorous Quinn- she loved them both dearly, though she was positive they were both a little crazy. Brittany and Artie smiled at each other as they made their way down followed by Finn and Santana. Mercedes wasn't sure if she was just seeing things, but Finn looked a little worse for wear. Suddenly, it was her turn. Giving Tina a good luck kiss on the cheek, she grabbed her flowers and stepped out of the sunroom.

* * *

><p>She literally took his breath away.<p>

Sam watched as Mercedes glided down the aisle, mesmerized. He knew it sounded cliché, even to himself, but he swore that for half a minute, there was no one else. She was beauty and laughter and light; the way her brown skin glowed in the afternoon sun made him dizzy.

She looked almost shy; her cheeks were flushed and there was a small smile on her lips. The cool grey of the dress contrasted deliciously with her warm skin and flowed elegantly over her body. She wore the top half of her hair back and away from her face and her eyes sparkled beneath the swoop of her bang.

Just when he thought she couldn't be any more gorgeous, she looked up at him, locked his gaze, and smiled. It was not a small, shy smile, or a polite smile of acknowledgement. It was a smile that Sam hadn't seen for over two years. The one she gave him when she watched him play his guitar for her on those late summer nights; the one she gave him when she called him _Sammy_.

For thirty seconds, Sam forgot how to breathe.

"Dude, pick up your jaw…" Finn whispered discreetly into his ear, bringing him into focus. He watched as Charlie brought the rings down the aisle on a little white pillow; the boy had his father's brown curls and his mother's wide eyes. He was followed by a precious Lily sprinkling soft pink petals down the white runner while smiling a charming little smile- she was a future heartbreaker, that one. The harpist began Pachelbel's Cannon in D, and everyone rose.

Sam broke out into a huge grin when he saw his friend come down the aisle. Tina looked amazing, and so happy. The guests murmured about how wonderful she looked, and he heard a few wistful sighs as well as some sniffling. The sniffling, of course, came from Mike. The man was _focused. _He saw how the couple held each other's gaze, shutting out everything and everyone else as the bride drew nearer. It occurred to him that while he had a similar moment a minute ago, it was something else that made him experience some déjà vu.

_The summer after their sophomore year in college, Mercedes decided that she was staying in Boston a second time, and when she invited him along, he couldn't say no. They spent another blissful three months cohabitating. In July, they attended her cousin's wedding in Manhattan and decided to stay the night at a hotel nearby as they missed the last train back. They had a wonderful time dancing and celebrating, he loved her family- they seemed so full of life._

"_What was your favorite part?" Mercedes draped her bare legs across his lap, still wearing his favorite green dress. It was short and sweet and she bought it because it matched his eyes._

_He took off her heels, tossed them by the closet, and leaned back into the pillows on the bed, rubbing her legs affectionately. "If I'm honest, you're gonna make fun of me."_

_She quirked her eyebrow at him quizzically- he loved it when she did that._ _"No I won't! Tell me!"_

"_No, I can't."_

"_Oh, come on, Sam. After that you have to tell me."_

"_Girl…" _

_She giggled; getting "sassy" with her always made her laugh. He did it often just so he could hear that melodic little chuckle._

"_Please, baby?" Mercedes snuggled into his neck, trailing light kisses along his jawline. _

_Sam swallowed, hard, and caved instantly. "Fine! I'll tell you." He tried to ignore her victorious smile. "My favorite part of the wedding – or any wedding, really – is when the bride comes in. Everyone's attention is focused on her and she just floats down the aisle. I think it's one of the happiest moments in a woman's life, and it shows; they just ooze joy. And a happy woman is the most beautiful thing in this world."_

_She stared at him for a moment, before laughing, quietly. "That's wild."_

"_What is?"_

"_That's my favorite part, as well, but for an entirely different reason."_

_He grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers and stroking her palm with his thumb. Mercedes shivered in pleasure and snuggled up closer against him. "And what's that?" Sam inquired, softly_

_She looked up at him, her head resting against his chest. "When everyone is focused on the bride, I look back at the groom. The expression on his face as he watches his bride come towards him is a collage of all the different types of love he feels towards her." She smiled to herself. "And then I glance back at the bride and see all of that emotion reflected- he's all she can see. It's like the air in the aisle between them is charged with everything they've ever felt for each other, just suspended there, in that gaze. It's magic."_

_He was silent for a moment, soaking in everything she said. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he saw the way she looked up at him, her small smile bringing out that dimple he loved. _

"_Someday, Sammy," she said gently, "you'll be all I can see."_

The ceremony was perfect. They exchanged beautiful vows they wrote themselves- Tina got a bit choked up halfway through, but she soldiered on. They exchanged rings, a fantastic kiss, and lit a unity candle. Sam couldn't help but notice Mercedes' expression throughout the whole thing. She looked emotional, which he expected, but there was something akin to pain the flashed in her eyes every now and then. _And I know exactly why,_ he thought to himself, guiltily.

The judge presented Mr. and Mrs. Michael Chang, and the applause was simply uproarious. The guests and bridal party cheered as the newlyweds practically danced down the aisle and into the house. Sam, wanting to be a responsible best man, checked on the post-ceremony arrangements with Fredrick. There was a cocktail hour for the guests to begin in fifteen minutes, giving the bridal party a couple hours to relax before the reception began. Seeing that everything was in order, he took out his phone to text Mercedes.

* * *

><p>"<em>Gazebo in the garden off the east wing, 10 minutes.<em>"

She needed a drink- especially after seeing an unexpected Rachel Berry tug an unhappy Finn off somewhere. After greeting a few guests and congratulating Charlie and Lily on a job well done, she went to grab her clutch from the sunroom. Feeling it vibrate, she took out her phone to see a text from Sam. If Mercedes was being honest with herself, she was just glad he hadn't changed his mind. They could have talked anywhere. Leave it to him to pick one of the most beautiful spots on the property. Suddenly, she was twice as nervous as she was that morning.

The way he stared at her when she walked down that aisle made her shiver. It reminded her of how he his eyes drank her in the night of their senior prom, except it was twice as intense. It made her feel warm, safe and desired all at the same time, and she loved it, though she wouldn't admit it. Opening her clutch, Mercedes made sure the wallet was still there. She ducked into the bathroom to check her make-up and compose herself before heading to the gazebo.

Mercedes spied Sam sitting, waiting- it was just like him to be early. When she entered the gazebo, he stood. "Ever the southern gentleman, Evans," she quipped, smiling at him. He grinned at her in a way that made her pulse quicken.

"Yes ma'am, Miz Jones," he drawled. She almost lost her panties for the second time in 24 hours.

She sat down next to him, careful to put a little distance between them. Opening her clutch, she pulled out his wallet. "Here you are," she said softly, handing it to him.

He put it in his pocket before turning to her. "I suppose you want to know about the stubs."

She started at his matter-of-fact tone. "How did you-"

He bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Mercedes, I dated you for almost three years. I know you." He smirked, no doubt at the way her jaw was on the floor. "In fact, the second I realized I left it in your room, I got excited."

"What? Why…"

"Because I knew you'd more than likely look through it and find them. And then you would want to talk to me, no matter how much you hated me for-" his voice broke "For last night…" he finished, almost in a whisper."

Her heart broke at Sam's expression; his face was flushed with embarrassment and there was remorse in his green eyes. She wanted to kiss the smile back onto his face. "Sam," she began, "if anyone should hate anyone, you should hate me." She looked at him, contrite. "I practically kicked you out this morning, after you woke up and got me coffee. I am so, so sorry." Mercedes felt her cheeks heat up and the floor suddenly seemed like the most interesting thing she'd ever seen. "You even remembered how I take it," she said, softly.

"Mercy, you don't have to apologize for anything. I'm the one that couldn't keep it in my pants." His voice was thick with emotion.

Her head snapped up. "Sam, I wanted it." He looked at her, his gaze piercingly intense. "More than anything else…" she stood up and began to pace in the gazebo, avoiding meeting his eyes for fear of not being able to get through her confession. "I was, um, _short_ with you this morning because I was scared. We didn't have sex last night, Sam. We made love." Mercedes paused, her throat tightening. "And while it was amazing, it was also scary. Because it made me realize that I still- how I, um, feel for you." She gathered up the courage to look him in the eyes. "You know."

He stared at her for a few moments. "I love you," he replied, simply. "I loved you the summer before senior year, and when we graduated, and through our first year of college and during both summers we spent together and – even if I didn't know it at the time – when we broke up and every moment since."

Mercedes sat back down; she was afraid her legs would give out under her if she didn't. It was everything she wanted to hear come from his lips and everything she hoped he wouldn't say all at the same time.

"I know you feel the same way, so I don't really get how this could be so scary for you. I mean you're the one who decided to end it. If anything it should be scary for me, but it isn't. It feels right."

She turned to him, stricken. "That's not fair, Sam, and you know it," she mumbled.

"What do you mean-"

"_It's not fair._" She took a deep, shaky breath- if there was one thing she hated, it was crying, and at this point it was inevitable. "I may have broken it off, but you made me do it, you and that ultimatum. And while you pushed me away with a two year wall of silence I had to learn to 'get over it' and block you out because I was so sure you forgot about me. So now I have to come to terms with the fact that I couldn't forget you if I _tried_- not just that but the fact that I still _love_ you." Tears filled her eyes, clinging to her lower lashes and threatening to fall.

Sam looked like someone had smacked him. "_Mercy._"

"I love you, Sam." Her cheeks were now wet with tears as she stood in front of him. "Loving you is not something that I _do_, it's part of who I _am._ To say that I stopped loving you is to say that I lost a big part of me- the best part of me." She was visibly shaking as he rose to his feet. "For two years I lost that part of myself- I was lost. I learned to live without it, and went on to achieve and experience great things. But something was always missing. And that guitar-" she choked on a sob.

"Mercy, I-"

"It was so bittersweet. Instead of being a constant reminder that you're there for me, it was a reminder that you weren't." Mercedes was openly sobbing, struggling to pour out her frustrations. "But I couldn't stop using it. I must have gone through five other guitars. Nothing ever sounded the way yours did, no matter how I tuned them- it seemed sweeter, more melodic. So I played it, every night. And every night I cried during my set. Everyone thought it was because of the lyrics to the song, but it was because all I fucking wanted as I strummed those strings was to be holding y-"

Before she could say anything else his lips crushed hers in a kiss. She collapsed against him and he drew her in, supporting her. "I'm sorry," he whispered against her lips between kisses, "I'm so, so sorry." Sam kissed his apologies into her lips.

After a few minutes, he pulled away and looked her in the eyes. Mercedes saw that the tears on her cheeks hadn't come from her eyes alone. "The stubs," he croaked, "I was there."

"_What?_"

"I was there, Mercy." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. "Every time Adele played somewhere I could make it to, I went. You were magnificent"

She just stood there in his embrace, almost numb from shock.

He reached for his wallet and pulled out the stubs. "Three from New York, two from L.A., Chicago, Seattle, Nashville. Seeing you perform was as painful as it was wonderful. It's how I punished myself for screwing everything up." Sam's eyes were full of tears and regret. "Stupid, I know."

Mercedes didn't know what to say, or that she was _able_ to say anything. So she did the rational thing and let their lips speak directly.

* * *

><p><strong>Answers! Kind of, ha. I promise you'll know why they broke up next chapter, if you haven't figured it out already.<strong>

**How about those cute little Schuester kids, huh? :D**

**As always, I'd love to hear what you thought! Take a couple seconds to tell me what you loved/hated/want more of! **

**Thanks for reading,**

**-Em**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: On first page. I also don't own any music mentioned in this chapter.**

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry for making you wait so long for an update, I had a few unexpected things come up. But to make up for it, this update is the longest one yet! It's thousand words longer than my longest. And you get answers! Thank you for all the alerts and reviews, by the way. It really does motivate me to write despite my hectic schedule; I love knowing that people out there are having fun reading what comes out of my head!**

**There are two songs in this that I suggest you play while reading; I wrote them in so you never have to pause to read and hear the significant parts of the song :) Just add the endings to the youtube home url.**

**The first one is "A Love That Will Last" by Renee Olstead, /watch?v=WA-4iawLy9I**

**The second one is Michael Bublé's live cover of "The Way You Look Tonight, /watch?v=yDh4GC7n0ig**

**One thing to note: for the purposes of this fic, they got back together at the Valentine's Day dance that's supposed to happen in 3x13. Flashbacks are in italics. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"Will you stop looking at me like that?" Mercedes giggled, playfully swatting at his face.<p>

"Like what?" Sam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking.

"Like I'm a tall glass of water and you've been wanderin' in the desert for a few days," she quipped, raising an eyebrow in mock judgment.

_More like a few years_, he thought to himself. He couldn't help the way his eyes drank her in; it had been far too long. And the way she curled up in his lap told him that she agreed, no matter how her mouth protested. He kissed her, feeling her soften at his touch and melt even further into him. "You were saying?"

"Nothing…"

"That's what I thought." Sam grinned at the way she scrunched up her face at him, sticking out her tongue. Mercedes nuzzled into his neck, letting out a small sigh.

"What?"

"How many?"

"How many what?"

"How many shows did you attend?" The way her voice vibrated against his neck was distracting to say the least.

He ran his hand down the soft skin of her arm, relishing in the way she shivered in pleasure. "Ten, all of them in the seventh row. And to be honest, I love Adele, but after the third show I started leaving after your set was through." He felt her sit up straight and face him.

"Sam Evans, you are crazy! Each of those tickets were like…$350 a pop if you got them _the day they came out_." Mercedes looked at him, shocked. "That's too much – way too much." She shook her head, her dark curls bouncing.

He reached up and cupped her cheek, placing a kiss on her forehead. "It wasn't enough," he said quietly but firmly. He knew she could see the remorse in his eyes, and he didn't care to hide it. It really wasn't enough; it's not as though his attendance counted towards bridging the gap he created between them. It was really a cowardly way of getting to see her without confronting the mess he made.

"How could you sa-"

"It wasn't." He shook his head gently, studying the ceiling before letting out a breath and looking back at her. "I had money; for the first time in a long time I could say that money wasn't an issue, or even an object. What I needed was you, and though I tried to get my fill it didn't work from the outside looking in."

"_Oh, Sammy_." She placed her hand gingerly on his chest; the heartfelt gesture touched him. Sam looked at her, noticing her head cocked to the side, a question in her eyes.

"Why the seventh row?"

"Mercedes, I may be an idiot who hasn't spoken to you in entirely too long, but I do know you."

She looked up at him, brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

Sam chuckled, running his thumb over her smooth cheek. "Mercy, how many times have I seen you perform? At the conservatory in practice rooms and concerts, at coffee houses, at your cousin's wedding; you focus on the first four rows and the people towards the back because you always say you don't want them to feel left out. So I got as close as I could get without having a chance of being noticed," he admitted, sheepishly.

Mercedes looked at him, clearly touched. She appeared to be at a loss for words, so she simply nuzzled back into him, trailing soft kisses from behind his ear to the base of his neck. She was about to feel how much he appreciated her in a second if she didn't stop hitting his spot.

"Cede!" Puck was walking toward the gazebo, practically bellowing her name.

Sam felt her stiffen in his lap and quickly stand up. His heart sank – was she that ashamed to be seen with him? He could have killed Puckerman for ruining the moment – he just might later on.

"What's goin' on?" she asked, breathlessly, adjusting her gown.

Puck eyed them dubiously before answering, "Charlie tore the bow off the back of Lily's dress and Quinn said you had a sewing kit in your room…"

"Yeah, I do. It should only take a second to mend, I don't mind." She turned back to Sam, and he saw the apologetic look on her face. "I'll be right back," she said, softly. Puck put an arm around her shoulders as he led her away, turning back to give Sam a look that clearly said "We'll talk about this later."

He couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy. Shaking it off he watched them walk away, hearing her laugh at something charming his friend must have said. Sam took out his phone, flipping through a few new emails and responding to those that couldn't wait. Apparently his VP, Rory Flanagan, was about to close the deal with one of the graphic novelists on their short list. He emailed him a list of fine points to include in the contract negotiations. Just as he was about to open another email he heard a heel clicking on the wooden steps of the gazebo.

"Hey, you."

He looked up to see a petite blonde standing in front of him. "Hi, Quinn…" he shifted, visibly uneasy. Sam knew she was with Puck, but there was something naturally predatory about her gaze.

Quinn smirked. "Relax. I just came to get you. The guests are being seated and Mercedes told me where you were so I could bring you back. Let's go." She motioned for him to follow her and they walked back to the house, side by side.

"Just for the record, I approve."

Sam looked at her in disbelief. "I swear to god I'm going to kill your boyfriend," he mumbled

"He didn't say anything, but thanks for confirming." When she saw his clearly confused expression, she explained. "Mercedes talking to you in the cozy little gazebo, _alone_, when just yesterday afternoon she looked pained at the mere mention of your name?" Quinn scoffed, "It's clear you made amends. You must think I'm stupid."

They walked up to the front door and entered the foyer. He spotted Mercedes crouched down wiping the tears off of Lily's cheek, coaxing a chuckle out of the little girl "I don't-"

"Not the point." Quinn turned and fixed him with a warning gaze. "Look, she loves you. And I'm glad that you've made up. But just because she's forgiven you doesn't mean that she's ready to _be with you_, got it?" Seeing him nod, she continued, "Mercy is the strongest and most fragile person I know." She looked over at her friend, lovingly, "So you need to take it slow. I like you Sam; but so help me god, if you break that girl's heart again…I'll break your neck," she whispered menacingly. Quinn then smiled brightly at him and walked off.

He'd never been more scared of that girl in his life.

* * *

><p>Dinner was absolutely delicious, though Mike and Tina looked like they could care less about the food. Mercedes smiled to herself as she watched her friends whisper into each other's ears and trade kisses. It warmed her heart that these two were joined together in marriage – it was pretty clear that was where their relationship was headed for a long time. Shifting her gaze further down the table she noticed Sam had been staring at her while she was looking at the couple. He blushed at being caught and looked down at his plate before looking back up and smiling at her.<p>

_Be cuter, Samuel Evans, I dare you_, she thought to herself. Mercedes shook her head gently as if to say, "I can't believe you" and had to stifle a giggle when he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. Now it was her turn to study her food and blush.

How was it even possible that it felt this good, this _easy_, this quickly? It hadn't even been a full 24 hours since the first time they talked, and they'd only made amends a couple of hours ago. Mercedes wasn't one to forget, even after she forgave, but the weight of the memory of what happened between them didn't press on her like she thought it would – which was strange given their surroundings. She picked at the remains of her meal, lost in thought. Sam had certainly shown remorse for cutting her out, and she wanted to let him back in - to be with him, even.

Her mind was telling her to wait, to take things slow, and make him work for it. It would be crazy for her to trust him after all this time, wouldn't it? She knew she should be wary of him, that she should be cautious. Mercedes let out a quiet sigh, taking a deep sip of chardonnay. If she was being honest with herself, her heart wanted the exact opposite of what was probably best. She yearned for what they had before: the sweet morning goodbyes and the loving evening hellos, the Saturday morning comics and breakfast in bed and their Sunday afternoon jam sessions.

She missed the way they lived their lives together. Even when during the semester they Skyped almost every night and visited each other on the weekends, so they were never apart for very long. Now that her hurt was soothed by his sincere apology, the only ache she felt was one of longing - no matter how much her head screamed for her to wait.

"At this time, I'd like to invite the newlyweds to the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife," Santana announced, standing on the stage in front of the band. Applause sounded as Mike and Tina stepped onto the dance floor. "When I see you guys, I see an unwavering, everlasting love – and I'm sure everyone would agree. Congratulations, we love you," she said, smiling fondly at the couple. The band began to play a smooth, jazzy tune as Mike drew a glowing Tina into his arms.

"_I want a little_

_Something more_

_Don't want the middle_

_Or the one before_

_I don't desire a complicated past_

_I want a love that will last…"_

The guests swooned as Mike and his bride glided effortlessly around the floor. Not only was it romantic, it was simply beautiful; they were both naturally talented dancers after all. They looked into each other's eyes, whispering sweet nothings as they spun and swayed, and Mercedes was having a hard time keeping her tears from falling.

"_I don't want just a memory_

_Give me forever_

_Don't even think about saying goodbye_

_Cause I just want one love to be enough_

_And remain in my heart 'til I die…_

_So,_

_There's just a little more that I need_

_I want to share all the air that you breathe_

_I'm not the kind of girl to complicate the past_

_I want a love that will last…"_

Mercedes hazarded a glance in Sam's direction, only to find him staring at her with that intense gaze of his. Her cheeks were on fire as she watched Santana croon the end of the song beautifully, wiping tears from her eyes as she finished. She wasn't alone; most of the guests were a little misty. Surprisingly enough, Tina held it together, kissing her husband deeply as their guests applauded.

Blaine and Kurt made their way to the stage and helped Santana down. They shared an adorable smile before addressing the guests. "That was absolutely beautiful," Kurt began, choking up. The crowd chucked and there were a few coos of adoration.

"What my lovely boyfriend was trying to say was that when you two dance, it's like watching love in motion." Blaine paused for the slight applause. "I would like to invite the bridal party and family members to join the couple. Tina, Mike, this is our gift to you."

"_One_ of our gifts," Kurt interrupted, aghast, "I think you'll find the handsome silverware _quite_ satisfactory." The guests shared a laugh at the pair's antics. People began to filter onto the dance floor as the music started to play.

"_Someday when I'm awfully low_

_When the world is cold_

_I will feel a glow_

_Just thinking of you_

_And the way you look tonight._

Kurt sang the first verse, his eyes settled on his partner. Mercedes smiled warmly at their loving glances when a pale hand was extended to her.

"Mercedes?" She looked up into his smiling green eyes. "I just wanted to tell you that you look beautiful. Would you like to dance?"

_No he didn't just junior prom me…_ "I'd love to," she said, playing right along. He led her out onto the floor as Blaine sang.

"_With each word your tenderness grows_

_Tearing my fears apart_

_And that laugh that wrinkles your nose_

_Touches my foolish heart..."_

Mercedes blushed when she felt the heat of his hand at the small of her back. They swayed together, her eyes never leaving his. It was as if every point of contact - from their clasped hands, to his arm around her waist, to her hand on his shoulder – was electrified. And she wasn't alone in this feeling – she saw Sam's subtle gasp at the contact, and the way the blush crept into his cheeks.

All she wanted to do was kiss him. But as far as everyone else knew, they were just amicable, not romantic. And unlike Rachel Berry, she wasn't about to cause drama on her friends' wedding day. As if sensing both her desire and hesitation, Sam gently squeezed her hand and tightened his grip on her waist, drawing her closer to him. With a content sigh, she rested her head on his chest, smiling at how his racing heartbeat matched her own.

"_Lovely, never ever change_

_Keep that breathless charm_

_Won't you please arrange it?_

_Cause I love you,_

_Just the way you look tonight…"_

* * *

><p>After Kurt and Blaine's performance, the DJ took over the music, and the (considerably less new) New Directions took over the dance floor. They celebrated the best way they knew how – bustin' some serious moves. Sam even successfully suckered the groom and his fellow groomsmen into serenading his bride with a hastily rehearsed song and dance to some vintage Bieber. It had everyone dying of laughter and cheering, although Mercedes shot him an incredulous look between giggles. Even Old Man Schuester tore it up on the dance floor, earning looks of both awe and embarrassment from his twins.<p>

Charlie came up to him afterwards with a curious expression. "You're Sam, right? You were one of my dad's glee kids like a hundred years ago."

Sam smirked into his glass and bit back a laugh. "Yes sir. And you're Charlie, right?" The young boy nodded, sitting in the chair next to him. Sam watched in amusement as the boy tried to copy the way he sat with his right ankle on his left knee. "So what's up?"

"Was my dad always this lame?" Charlie asked, an expression of clear distaste on his round face.

Sam almost spit out his drink. He liked the kid already. "You want the truth?"

Charlie squinted, giving it some thought. "Yeah."

"He used to be even _lamer_." Sam almost snorted in laughter at the little boy's shocked expression. "He's actually gotten _less_ lame. It's a good thing; by the time you're my age, he'll be the coolest person you know," he said, matter-of-factly.

Understanding registered in his hazel eyes, and he nodded. "I guess that's okay then. As long as he gets better." He hopped off the chair. "Thanks, Sam!"

"No problem, Charlie," he said, watching the kid run over to sister, no doubt to tell her what he just learned. He saw him whisper into Lily's ear and laughed as her blue eyes brightened and she grabbed her brother's hand as they did a happy dance.

He headed towards the bar for a new drink, sitting next to Puck. "Scotch, neat. Thanks."

"So…" began Puck.

"So…?" Sam questioned him, taking a sip of the single malt.

"You and Mercedes looked pretty cozy out there during Kurt and Blaine's song."

Sam smirked at him. "Shouldn't your eyes have been focused on the lady in your arms? I know we're both blond, but sheesh."

"Ha, ha, ha," Puck retorted, sarcastically. "Don't flatter yourself, _Samantha._" He took a sip of his drink. "Quinn and I both noticed you seemed to be a bit more than just _friendly_. I take it you talked things out?"

"The hardest parts, yeah. I don't think we're done with the whole conversation, but she's forgiven me." He stared down at his drink, trying to figure out how to phrase his thoughts. "It's amazing…sometimes she looks at me like, like…"

"Like she did before? Like none of it ever happened?"

He turned to his friend, brows knit. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"That's the look Quinn gave me. That's how I knew there was a future for us." He smiled, swirling his martini absently. "We weren't even _close_ to getting together, and I knew there was no way she'd forget everything that happened. But when she gave me that look, I knew that I had begun to redeem myself, and that she was willing to keep the past behind us."

Sam sat, stunned, soaking in this new piece of information. "When she looks at me like that, I feel conflicted, you know? Part of me absolutely loves it, but another part of me is like 'who are you kidding?' and I feel a little bit guilty; I don't deserve to have her look at me that way…"

"That's the hardest part."

"I know man, I hate feeling this way."

"No." Puck turned to face him. "The hardest part is forgiving yourself. It's heavy stuff, knowing that you messed up and hurt a beautiful, loving woman. And, in my case, helped turn her into an angry, power hungry shell of her former self." A wave of something Sam recognized as regret washed over his friend's face. "Until you forgive yourself for fucking up, it won't even matter that they've forgiven you. Because, trust me, until you do you will _never_ stop punishing yourself. And after a while, punishing yourself will start to punish the person you love as well." Puck shuddered, taking a deep sip of his drink.

Sam sat, quietly, absorbing his friend's confession. If he was being honest with himself, he hadn't forgiven himself for what he'd done to Mercedes. At first he even pretended that _she_ was the one who'd done _him_ wrong. He was thankful that delusion didn't last long.

Looking out on the dance floor, he saw her laughing and doing the Macarena with Lily and Charlie. His heart swelled; she was so beautiful when she laughed, and so amazing with children. Sam fondly remembered how quickly she bonded with Stacy and Stevie when they were little; they would pout whenever he'd babysit them without her and even call her to say goodnight when they missed her. She was going to be a great mother for their kids.

_Their kids? _Sam almost slapped himself. There he was again, thinking _way_ too far ahead. She had just forgiven him a few hours ago for crying out loud. He finished his drink, taking a deep breath to clear his head. Thankfully it was time for the bride and groom to cut the cake. He and Puck headed up to the table where the ornately decorated three tier confection stood.

Tina and Mike were adorable, feeding each other bites of cake with their fingers and dotting one another's noses with frosting all while laughing. He was sure they'd look back at these photos in the future and laugh just as hard. Sam took a piece of cake over to Mercedes, who looked to be in deep conversation with Santana. They immediately fell silent when he was within earshot, and he handed her the plate, flashing them a knowing grin. They rolled their eyes and waited until he was a few yards away before continuing what he knew was a conversation about him.

Then he saw Santana gather up all of the bridesmaids and single women for Tina to toss her bouquet; he noticed Mercedes was at the back of the group. Sam couldn't help but laugh at the range of emotions the women were displaying: from excitement, to desperation, to disinterest. Tina danced up to the group and turned, looking back to make sure she was in a good position. She teased them a couple of times, flinging back her arms but still holding on to the bouquet, earning a few laughs and a couple of groans.

Tina counted back from three and tossed the bouquet in a high arc. There was a collective squeal from the women as they all jumped and made grabby hands at the air in order to catch the flowers. Sam noted with amusement that Santana and Brittany both seemed eager to be the ones to snag the arrangement. He watched as Mercedes took a giant step back, as if she wanted none of it. And, as if it was all happening in slow motion, just as she took the step back, the bouquet fell from its lazy arc directly into her hands.

He saw her look at the arrangement with wide eyes. All around her people were cheering. Sam started to walk towards her; he could sense something was wrong and he thought he knew exactly what it was. Mercedes looked up at him with a panicked expression and thrust the bouquet in Santana's hands. She plastered a smile on her face and mumbled something to Tina and the girls about needing to go to the powder room before turning and bolting out of the ballroom.

Sam and Santana's eyes connected, and they shared a worried look; though in Sam's case the worry was mixed with guilt. He whispered to Santana to have the DJ start his last set. He headed over to Mike and Tina and they thankfully were blissfully unaware of what was going on. When Mike asked about the garter toss he told him that they'd decided to stagger it with the DJ's last set and they gave him a thumbs up, dancing back onto the floor. Breathing a sigh of relief, he went to find Mercedes.

* * *

><p>Apparently a bouquet of flowers was what it took for her to finally crack.<p>

Mercedes rushed out of the ballroom and stumbled through the halls, blinded by her tears, until she reached the game room. Flopping down on the sofa she heaved as the sobs wracked her body. Of course that very public moment of catching the bouquet, which she had purposefully tried to avoid, would be her trigger. Painful as it was, she couldn't stop her mind from remembering that day any more than she could stop the tears that rolled down her face.

_Mercedes always thought having an anniversary on Valentine's Day was romantic and convenient; there was no way her boyfriend could ever forget the date, and it just so happened to be on a holiday celebrating love._

_However her boyfriend, Sam "Hopeless Romantic" Evans, went out of his way to make the day twice as special. "After all," he'd always say, "there are two events, our anniversary and Valentine's Day. He spoiled her rotten, no matter how much she'd blush and protest that it wasn't necessary; he wasn't having any of it. Part of her thought that he fussed over her so much because he wasn't able to do so when they first started dating the summer before their senior year. Either way, it was incredibly sweet._

_He'd come to spend the Valentine's Day weekend with her in Boston. Valentine's Day was on a Sunday that year, but he came Friday night after his last class. They'd snuggled in bed all night; well maybe not _all _night, they were consenting adults after all. The next morning she made breakfast and brought it to a sleeping Sam: cheddar and tomato omelets, bacon, orange juice, fruit, and his favorite comics. He looked surprised, perhaps even a little disappointed._

"_What's wrong? We always do comics and breakfast in bed on Saturday…"_

_He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "I know," he pouted, "but it's Valentine's weekend. I wanted to get up and make you breakfast for a change."_

_Mercedes laughed, her heart swelling. "That's sweet, but the actual day is tomorrow. And you always sleep in – that's why I'm the one that makes breakfast." She set the tray down on the nightstand on his side of the bed._

"_It's because I always sleep well when you're next to me," he said, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back into bed as she squealed._

"_Sam! Stop! Breakfast is gonna get cold!" she exclaimed, her protests turning to moans as he kissed her, his hands working their way up her thighs._

"_Oh, trust me, I'll still eat…" he rumbled._

_They spent the day indoors: singing, drawing, laughing, and making love. When she woke up the next morning, Sam was nowhere to be found. Mercedes was about to call out for him when her hand brushed against something – a small envelope. "Open me," it read. Taking out a small card, she smiled when she recognized Sam's messy artist handwriting. _

"_Dear Mercy," it began, "Happy 3__rd__ Valeversary!" She chuckled at the mashed-up nickname he'd insisted they give the day a couple of years ago. It was decidedly ironic seeing as he was so adamant about celebrating the two things separately. "You may be wondering why I'm not there – don't. Stop that. What are you doing?" Mercedes laughed as she read on in his voice. "Instead of wondering where I am, you should be enjoying your first surprise in the bathroom…see you soon! Love, Sammy." _

_She bolted to the bathroom and stopped at the door, hands covering her mouth. He'd drawn her a bath with her favorite lavender bath oil, pretty pink rose petals floating in the water and candles all around the ledge. A tray was balanced on a footstool near the tub; on it were a bowl of chocolate dipped strawberries and little bottle of champagne, along with another note that told her to enjoy but be dressed by noon._

_Mercedes was certain that she'd won the boyfriend lottery._

_After her wonderful soak, she got dressed and met him in the lobby of the apartment building. If Sam had made her day that morning, he made her month that afternoon. After a quick lunch, he took her to her next surprise: he bought them enough studio time to record a song together. She pretty much lost her shit right there in the street, and he'd laughed at her excitement. They spent a wonderful afternoon recording a cover of Gavin DeGraw's "More Than Anyone" as a duet. It was perfect._

_With a copy of their "single" in their hands, Sam had declared their celebration of Valentine's Day over and they went home to change into nicer clothes for their anniversary dinner. Mercedes was positively glowing. She really didn't need anything else from him; what he had already done was too much. They walked hand in hand to their favorite Italian restaurant a few blocks from the apartment as the snow began to fall. Though dinner and conversation were lovely as usual, Mercedes sensed that something was off about Sam._

_He seemed tense, or maybe a little nervous. She wasn't sure what that was about; she hoped it wasn't because of her. Shrugging it off, she made the most of their time together. As always they argued over the last bite of dessert, each offering it to the other, neither thinking to split it. By the time they were ready to head out, the ground was covered in a blanket of snow; Mercedes was grateful the apartment wasn't far._

_They took their time walking back, kicking up little drifts of snow and trying to catch individual flakes on their tongues like little kids. They were walking by a park about a block away from her apartment when Sam stopped. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes. He definitely looked tense now, even more so than at the restaurant. Her mind immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusions: he was going to move away again, or he joined the army, or maybe he was sick? Mercedes quickly became anxious, shifting her weight from one foot to the other._

_Suddenly, he smiled at her. "We're good together, right?"_

_She was taken aback at his question. "Yeah, of course," she answered, breathlessly._

_He stepped towards her, taking her mitten clad hands in his gloved ones and bending down to kiss her, sweetly. "You know, yesterday I had the most fantastic day staying in with you; the best day, really. And when I think about it, what we did wasn't really anything special; what made it special was that I got to do those things with you." He smiled down at her._

_Mercedes sagged into him in relief; he wasn't going anywhere, he was just being sweet and mushy. For a second there, she was terrified. "I agree," she smiled brightly up at him, "I could pretty much do anything with you and have it be ten times better." She chuckled, squeezing his hands affectionately. "Hell, you even make washing dishes and mopping fun, and that's almost impossible. You're a keeper, Mr. Evans." She teetered on her tiptoes and kissed him._

"_I'm glad you think so. Speaking of which, I have one last present for you, you could say this one's for our anniversary."_

"_Oh, Sammy. You've already done more than enough for me today, I'm spoiled rotten!" All of a sudden, he got down on one knee. Mercedes thought she was going to pass out – there was no way this was happening, he wasn't actually going to, right? She was going to be sick._

_Sam grabbed her hand and looked up at her, lovingly. "How about you let me spoil you rotten and make cleaning fun for the rest of our lives?" he asked, pulling out a velveteen box._

"_Sam Evans, that had better be another promise ring…" she heard her voice shake, matching nervous tremor that had spread through her body._

"_Oh it is, just for a bigger promise." Sam winked, grinning. "Mercedes Jones, will you marry me?" He looked up at her, expectantly. _

_Mercedes felt like time was frozen and rushing ahead at the same time; she was certain her head was going to explode. If there was one thing she did not see coming, it was this. She loved him, more than she loved anyone else, with everything she had. But she wasn't ready for this, and she knew telling him that would somehow be worse than telling him no. Because telling him no just meant she didn't want to get married, but not being ready implied there weren't at the same place in their relationship. Her mind raced and her stomach twisted in knots; she heard him cough nervously, she had to say something…_

"_We're in college." Smooth, Mercedes, real smooth._

_He regarded her with a furrowed brow. "And it's snowing outside, what does that have to do with what I asked you?" He chuckled, nervously._

"_Sam, we're in college, we can't get engaged!" As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. His face crumpled in a way that made her heart sink. He looked down and stood up, composing himself before facing her again._

"_It's not like I'm asking you to marry me tomorrow!" He walked a few feet away, pacing nervously, a hand clutching his hair through his beanie. "Which, by the way, I would."_

"_Sam," she said, softly, "I love you, and I love being with you. And it's true, our love and relationship are very mature because of the circumstances on which they were founded, but being engaged is a big step, and I don't know that I'm ready to take it." She watched his face, warily. _

"_Mercedes, nothing is going to change; we'll just be dating with the intent to marry. We'll still finish school, and get settled before thinking about a wedding."_

"_If nothing is going to change it doesn't make sense to get engaged now," she said, her voice rising, frustrated. _

"_Look," he began, "Why don't you take some time to think about it and get back to me?"_

_She was quiet for a moment, listening to the cars whiz by, before asking, "And if I say no, can we go back to the way we were?"_

_Sam looked at her stricken, disconnected; there was a pain flooding his eyes, as if she'd reached in his chest and ripped out his heart with her own hands. "What." he said, weakly._

"_Can we…let's just be the way we were! You said it yourself; being engaged wouldn't change anything, so why not wait? Let's wait, baby, okay?" But even as she pleaded, her words sounded ridiculous to her. Being engaged may not immediately change the way their relationship operated day to day, but it would change everything emotionally, put them in a whole different mindset – one that she just wasn't ready to be in._

_Tears sprung to her eyes and rushed down her cheeks as she rushed up to Sam, to hold him, reassure him. When he stepped back from her and looked at her, her heart broke. His gaze was hollow and pained; his eyes had become dark and clouded with hurt. "Are you saying no?" he asked, flatly._

"_Sammy," she sobbed, "I can't right now! But I want you; I want to be with you! A ring shouldn't make a difference!"_

"_But it does," he said, coldly. Sam looked at her as if he couldn't see her. "I don't want to go back, Mercedes. I only want to move forward. You're either with me with this ring, or you're without me." _

_She was miserable and she didn't understand why he was being like this. But she couldn't lie to him, or herself. "I can't, Sam, not right now," she squeaked. "Please, you have to understand!" Mercedes sniffled miserably, wiping at her falling tears._

_Sam looked right through her, it was scary, like he wasn't even present. He waited a beat before hailing a passing taxi and leaving without a word. She crumpled against a lamppost while warm tears soaked her wind-whipped cheeks._

"Mercedes?"

She looked down, avoiding his eyes and the discussion she knew was coming.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm an angst whore, what can I say? Haha. <strong>

**But now you know why they broke up. And at least I didn't raise another question? At least directly...**

**Reviews would be absolutely lovely! I love reading and responding to them :)**

**-Em**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: On first page**

**A/N: Thanks for sticking with me, you guys! Sorry it's taken me a while to update, I've been swamped with coursework. I loved reading your reactions to the little plot twist of the last chapter! You guys are the absolute best! I promise I'll finish responding to your reviews later today. I hope you enjoy this chapter! I used Salt-n-Pepa's "Whatta Man" and Justin Timberlake's "Set The Mood Right" in this chapter, neither of which I own. Listening to the JT song might enhance the scene, so youtube it and queue it up!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"Talk to me, Mercy. C'mon, please?" Sam watched as she shook her head, sniffling and avoiding eye contact. His heart sank as she choked back a sob, her chest heaving. He knew if he pressed any further she'd shut him out.<p>

Sitting next to her, Sam tested the waters by rubbing her back in soothing circles. When Mercedes didn't push him away, he drew her into his side, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"Y-you just _left_ me there," she managed to choke out between shaky sniffles.

He knew it; catching the bouquet triggered her. Regret and shame formed knots in his stomach and flushed his cheeks. He felt like the biggest jackass in the world sitting here trying to comfort her when he, yet again, was the reason for her tears.

Sam had done a lot of soul searching and growing up in the last two years, but that didn't make the hurt he'd caused her magically disappear. It wasn't that he thought that it would, necessarily; he just let the ease that had quickly developed between them distract him from the deeper issues they needed to work through.

It was his fault.

The minute he got on the train back to Providence, he knew that he'd been unreasonable, but his pride refused to let him go back. Mercedes had every right to want to wait, and he shouldn't have reacted the way he had, he knew that.

Granted he also had every right to be upset about her hesitation, but leaving her out there alone after the weekend they'd shared, and then freezing her out - it was immaturity at its worst. And while he wished that he could have gone back and handled it better, he was thankful that she hadn't accepted his proposal. No matter how ready he thought he'd been, he wasn't.

"I know, and I'm so sorry, Mercy; I was such an ass," he managed to mumble into her hair.

Sam was exceedingly grateful that he couldn't see her face at the moment; if he had to see the pain that was no doubt written all over it, he didn't know how he'd deal.

"I know that I've said sorry a few dozen times in the last 24 hours, and before we leave Napa, I'll probably have said it a few dozen more."

He took a deep breath before starting again. "And I know that saying sorry isn't magically going to fix things between us, no matter how much I mean it. But I believe that if we're honest with each other we have a shot easing the pain and moving on; at the very least as friends, though I hope it will be much more than that."

Sam held his breath, feeling her tense then relax back into his side with a deep sigh. "You know," she began, her eyes on the tightly clasped hands in her lap, "I'm going to be honest with you: I've forgiven you, but I haven't forgotten. And it's almost like it's not even the _who_ that has me all messed up anymore, but the_ what_ if that makes any sense."

Sam watched as Mercedes ran the knuckles of her balled fists against each other; it was a dead giveaway of just how vulnerable she felt in that moment. His heart swelled and he gave her upper arm a supportive squeeze, silently prompting her to go on.

"But I just can't bring myself to trust you, though I'm sure you expected that. If I'm even more honest than I'm comfortable being, quite frankly, I'd have to admit that the scariest part is that I _want_ to trust you again."

Mercedes turned her big brown eyes towards him, and in them he found sincerity tinged with trepidation. Then her chin quivered, and he wanted to die for ever having made her feel this way.

Maybe he'd get Artie to run him over a few hundred times.

He took a deep breath and cupped her cheek. "I want you to trust me again," he admitted, "more than anything." And it was true. Sam knew that despite all the heartache, there was no love lost between them. He'd overcome his pride and fear, and she was on her way to healing the hurt. The only thing that would keep them from mending their relationship going forward would be a lack of trust. But he wouldn't let that stand in their way.

Mercedes laid her head on his shoulder. "It's going to take some time, you know. It's insane how quickly we fall back into being 'Sammy and Mercy' when we aren't thinking of what ended it. It's just so easy, because it's all still there. But that doesn't mean that I'm ready to be with you again, no matter how much I want to be."

Sam felt his pulse quicken; she still wanted to be together, like _together _together. He felt relief wash over him; that was all he needed, her desire. As long as she was willing and open to the possibility, he would work his ass off to make it happen. He was nothing if not perseverant, after all.

"I understand," he said, quietly. "Just know that I am going to do whatever I can to gain your trust, Mercedes. I lost you twice; I couldn't help it the first time, but the second time was all me," he said, regret ringing in his voice. "I'll be damned if I fuck up the best thing that's ever happened to me again."

"You know what they say, three strikes and you're out." Sam didn't have to face her to know a sassy smirk was tugging at her lips; it often accompanied that wry tone. "Though maybe I shouldn't be mentioning anything that has to do with _diamonds_ for a little while…"

They both chuckled, breaking the remaining tension. "So I'd love to sit here with you for the rest of the evening," Sam said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "but there's sort of a wedding we have to get back to…"

"_Shit!_" Mercedes exclaimed, jumping up from the couch. Sam instantly missed the feel of her soft warmth against his side. He placed his hand on the small of her back and gently guided her out the door and down the hall, noting with a smile the way his touch made her shiver.

"It's all good, Satan and I did some damage control. We should be getting back though, you've been 'in the bathroom' for quite some time now," he quipped, trying not to laugh as she swatted at him.

* * *

><p>As Mercedes entered the hall, she was happy to see the guests and bridal party dancing to the DJ's set. Truth be told she was mortified about her reaction to catching the bouquet, but apparently she had covered it up well enough for everyone but Sam and Santana. Sam was trying to drag her onto the dance floor when she noticed Artie whispering into the DJ's ear.<p>

"Alright, we have an indirect request from the bride via a groomsman," he said, laughing. "To the blushing bride Tina, who kept this off the list of approved songs because she thought her choreographer husband would think it's too corny. This is for you!" The beat for the "Cha Cha Slide" dropped and the guests were abuzz with laughter and excitement. Mike shook his head lovingly at his wife before kissing her and getting into position on the floor.

Mercedes looked up at Sam to see him looking expectantly down at her, his lips pressed together holding back a laugh. She hated that he knew how much she secretly loved the dance, as cliché as it was.

"Fine, _fine_, let's go. You suck," she grumbled, though she knew that he knew she was excited. They slid in next to the bride and groom and began to clap their hands. They could barely get through the song as they spent most of it laughing until they were breathless. Mercedes saw Tina blow a grateful kiss to Artie as the song ended.

The DJ resumed his set with Salt-n-Pepa's "Whatta Man" and Mercedes set a chair in the middle of the dance floor after getting the signal from Santana; it was time for the garter toss. Tina sat down in the chair, blushing furiously as Mike danced cheekily up to her. Kneeling down, he slid his hands up her right calf, waggling his eyebrows at his blushing bride. Suddenly, he pushed her dress up to her knees and turned around to face his groomsmen.

"Will you get a load of these gams? How lucky am _I_?"

"Michael Chang!" Tina exclaimed, laughing as the entire bridal party wolf whistled.

He slid the right side of the dress a little bit higher on her thigh to reveal the tossing garter and flashed her an unapologetic grin. Mike held her leg straight out, supporting it at the ankle as he dragged the garter down her smooth, toned leg with his teeth.

Mercedes was doubled over laughing at her friend's shocked yet slightly turned on expression. After Mike slid it off her foot, he pulled her up off the chair into a kiss that made the guests burst into applause. Walking away from a dizzy Tina, he beckoned his groomsmen and single male guests.

"Alright you schmucks," he taunted, "gather 'round, it's time for a little game of catch." _Schmucks, huh…_ Mercedes thought to herself. Clearly he'd spent some time with Tina's grandfather.

The men gathered behind him, and he got ready to toss the garter back. Mercedes sat at a nearby table watching in amusement until she noticed Santana waggling her eyebrows at her, along with Quinn. They both were giggling hysterically.

"What?" The pair only giggled harder, unable to answer her.

"You...forgot…didn't…you…" Quinn managed to gasp out, leaning on Santana for support. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at the Latina, demanding an explanation.

"You…caught…the flowers," Santana choked out between laughs before pausing to take some deep steadying breaths. "You better hope Trouty doesn't catch the garter…"

A second later, when her mind finally made the connection, she wished she could melt and disappear. _Of course_ she had to be one to catch the goddamn bouquet, and since fate was in rare form that day, there was a good chance he'd be the one to catch the garter. And then he would have to put it on her leg…in front of everyone…to a sexy song.

Mercedes would never admit that a tiny part of her was thrilled, especially since most of her was silently willing him to fumble. She watched as Mike counted down from three just as Tina did earlier and faked the men out a few times before flinging the lacy garter into the air. And, because she had somehow angered the gods, a large pale hand shot up in the air and grabbed it just as the others were only starting to jump for it. Mercedes' eyes traveled up the arm connected to the hand to find a dazzling smile and a sparkling set of green eyes, focused on her.

She was in trouble.

Quinn and Santana practically deposited her into the chair Tina had sat in minutes ago, shooting her looks before joining the rest of the bridal party and dissolving into giggles yet again. The DJ looked a bit too entertained as he got on the mic.

"Alright, we have a winner – or maybe two of them…" the bridal party began to catcall in Mercedes' direction. "Here's how it's gonna go ladies and gentlemen: when I drop the beat, my dude is going to place the garter on this fine lady's leg. But here's the catch: the louder you cheer, the higher that garter goes! Just clap when you think it's in place." He started the song, some smooth Justin Timberlake, and that's when it sunk in.

She was _screwed_.

Sam's expression was practically predatory as he approached her. Kneeling down, his right hand slid the heel off her right foot as his left hand slid up the back of her calf. A soft, almost inaudible gasp escaped her lips as he gently caressed the sensitive skin on the back of her knee. But if the smoldering look he tossed her was any indication, he heard her loud and clear.

Slipping the garter over her foot, he purposely grazed the skin on the inside of her ankle, making Mercedes shiver. He slowly worked the lace up her smooth calf, his eyes never leaving hers, and then stopped about halfway to her knee.

"Here?" Sam asked their audience, receiving a resounding "No!" followed by cheering. "Don't worry, I won't stop…" he rumbled, low enough so only she could hear.

Though she hated to admit it, the warm, calloused hands firmly sliding up the smooth brown skin of her leg were beginning to make her tremble. Mercedes bit her bottom lip and clutched the sides of the chair to steady herself. As he pushed the garter up over her knee, his fingertips once again massaged the back of it, and she quivered. His smile of satisfaction grew as he felt her responding to his touch. Again, he paused, and the cheering became even _louder_.

Sam let his right hand tug the garter along the outside of her thigh while the fingertips of his left hand grazed the soft skin of her inner thigh. Between his intense gaze and the small, teasing loops he was tracing higher and higher along the inside of her thigh, Mercedes was certain she forgot how to breathe.

Thankfully, the guests finally applauded. Sam shot her a knowing smile before placing the heel back on her foot. She stood, steadying herself before walking a little shakily over to the bridesmaids. Santana met her eyes with a mischievous smile.

"_Wanky_."

* * *

><p>The rest of the wedding went smoothly. After the last dance Mike and Tina said goodbye to their guests and headed to their suite in the west wing. Sam was pretty certain there was a collective sigh of relief among the bridal party when they saw them head for the wing opposite from where they were staying. He loved them, but he didn't quite want to hear them love each other.<p>

After all of the guests filtered out and were brought their cars by the valets or secured cabs, the bridal party headed to the rec room to wind down before turning in. Sam headed back towards his room to grab a charger for his dying phone when he saw a fuming Rachel storm out of Finn's room and barrel down the hall, nearly knocking him over. _Well that can't be good, _he thought to himself. Instead of going to his room, he decided to check on Finn.

"Come in," Finn said, hearing Sam's knock. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"I saw Rachel leave-"

"Let her go," Finn spat, bitterly. "She's batshit crazy."

Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He knew Rachel was a nut, but Finn had always stood up for her. If he did call her out on something, it had always been more on the side of constructive criticism. But he didn't hear a lick of understanding in his tone.

"What- I mean, do you mind if I ask what happened? Do you wanna talk about it?"

Finn looked up at him, and Sam was taken aback. His normally medium brown eyes were dark and angry, his face was flushed and he looked positively enraged.

"You know what, I'm not usually the 'talk-it-out' type, but I need to vent. I can't keep this shit bottled up right now."

"By all means, I'm listening," Sam assured him, settling down into a chair opposite his friend. He watched as Finn got up and began to pace across the rug in front of the bed, scrubbing his hand over his face in frustration.

"Okay, so you know how I told you earlier that she thought she was pregnant?"

"Yeah…"

"Well first of all, she drags me inside straight after the ceremony, right in the middle of a conversation I was having with Tina's grandparents, which pissed me off. I mean, how rude, right?" Finn went on, his jaw clenched, "So she takes me to one of the sitting rooms on the first floor of the house and starts crying. She just sat there bawling her eyes out for a good five minutes."

_Typical,_ Sam thought.

"Then she went on about how stupid she was to leave me when we had something so good and that she was blinded by her ambition and that she was wrong. Which, I mean, she was; she basically said I was beneath her, you know?" He let out a breath and sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"You aren't, Finn. You know that; if anything you're too good for her," Sam reassured him.

"Thanks, man. So I can't get a word in edgewise. She goes on about how we have to be a family for our baby and how I'm going to be the best dad. Honestly, at this point I kinda softened up about it, ya know? She was crying and pregnant and I did have feelings for her," he sighed.

"So…what changed? Between then and now when she almost ran me over, I mean." He watched as Finn began to get angry all over again.

"So we talked some more and then I told her to give me time to think about it. After the reception we came in here to talk some more. When I asked her when we should go to the doctor to get a definitive result, she handed me this." Finn handed Sam a small manila envelope.

Opening it, he found what looked like an ultrasound image and some vitals and statistics with her doctor's letterhead, dated three days ago. "So wait, she knew for sure that she was pregnant, but she told you she wasn't sure? That doesn't make any sense…"

"Oh, no," Finn said, darkly, "that's not even it. That's not what made me mad. She thinks I'm so fucking dumb, that I'm still some dumb fucking teenager." He got up and began to pace, even more frantically than before.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, lost.

"So you know two months ago when she landed this part that made her go from intensely ambitious to fucking insane? Well she told me that her character was virginal and innocent, so to prepare we couldn't have sex for the first month of rehearsals, until she 'got' her character down."

"Damn, that's harsh…"

"And because I'm accommodating, I put up with it. I didn't like it, but I could deal because I thought it would help her. We didn't have sex again until a week before she broke up with me, and it was only once. She completely pulled away from me after that." He pinched his nose in frustration. "Now open up the report and look at the second to last line highlighted."

Sam unfolded the page and read the line. "Duration of gestation to date: six weeks." When it hit him, his stomach sank, and he felt sick. "And you didn't have sex with her until three weeks ago…oh my god..."

"Again!" Finn shouted, "After knowing how the shit that went down with Quinn sophomore year affected me, she does _the same thing_ to save face. And the worst part? She had no fucking remorse. She just went on and on about how she deserved to have someone stable in her child's life and that it was my duty to be there for her when _she_ is the one that cheated on me and kicked me to the curb!" He let out a strangled scream and kicked over a chair in frustration.

Sam sat there, silently, absorbing the magnitude of what he just heard. He knew Rachel had severe tunnel vision and was a bit entitled, but he never imagined that she'd try to hurt Finn this way; especially after all he'd been through. "What are you going to do?" he asked, quietly.

Finn swallowed hard before answering. "I told her that I never wanted to see her again, so she of course called me a selfish bastard and left for her hotel. And thanks for listening, I appreciate it, but I really want to stop talking about her and go have a drink."

Walking over to his friend, he sat down next to him and clamped a supportive hand on his shoulder. "This is a lot to handle, man. And she was wrong for ruining your night; this was supposed to be about Mike and Tina and us celebrating their love, not her issues. Why don't we just go to the bar in the rec room? I'll pour you a drink and we can just sit for a while until you're ready to chill with the others. Okay?"

Finn nodded and the pair headed to the recreation room, hearts heavy.

* * *

><p>The moment she saw Sam and Finn enter the rec room, she knew something was wrong. Sure, they grabbed drinks and joined a game of pool with smiles on their faces, but there was something off about their demeanor. It worried her, but she felt like she shouldn't ask about it quite yet.<p>

Instead, she played a game of poker with Santana, Brittany, Quinn, Blaine, Kurt, and Puck. It was an intense game, but mostly it was plain hilarious. Between Kurt's below the table "tickling" to distract Blaine and Quinn making sex eyes at Puck to distract him, she was fighting a losing battle to keep her poker face in place. Then, in the second biggest shock she'd had in the last 24 hours, Brittany bested the bunch raking in over two hundred dollars.

"I can't fucking believe this," Puck mumbled as Santana gave her girlfriend a victory kiss. "How? When? What?"

"If Kurt hadn't had his hand on my thigh the entire game…"

"Oh don't you start, Blaine Warbler. You weren't complaining a few minutes ago…"

"Oh shut up and go make out, you two. Britt-brat won fair and square, deal with it," Santana said, making a face at her friends before kissing a blushing Brittany's cheek.

"How'd you get so good at this, Britt?" Quinn asked as everyone at the table leaned in curiously.

"I don't know. I've only played one other time; it was a few years ago with some kids in design school." She shrugged, nonchalant.

The whole table sat back simultaneously, stunned into silence. "_Ay dios mío_," muttered Santana, "I've got a savant on my hands."

"No, that was last night!" chirped Brittany, cheerfully. They laughed as Santana blushed.

"Another round then?" Quinn began to shuffle the cards.

"You guys go ahead, I think I'm gonna grab a drink," Mercedes said, excusing herself and heading towards the bar. Sam was refreshing his drink, and he looked over to her with a small smile.

"What's up? Did you clean house at poker? You were always pretty good."

"_No_...actually Brittany won," she informed him, laughing as he choked on his drink. "She's actually something of a poker genius. Who knew?"

"Not me, that's for sure," he admitted, looking thoroughly amused.

Mercedes chuckled, pouring herself a glass of merlot as Sam watched her. She loved feeling his eyes on her; it made her tingle. Settling onto the stool next to his, she turned to him. "So," she began hesitantly, "I don't want to pry, but is everything alright? You and Finn didn't look so good when you came in, something seemed off."

She watched his jaw clench as he took a deep breath; that told her something was _really_ wrong. "It's Finn and Rachel stuff – you know how she gets, but this time she really fucked up. I don't really know if he'd want me to talk about it just yet, you understand."

"Of course," she assured him, but her stomach tightened as some horrible scenarios ran through her mind. She made a mental note to check on him tomorrow. Shifting her focus back on Sam, she couldn't help but smile; he really was delicious in that suit.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, shifting her gaze back to her drink.

"Why, Miz Jones, were you checkin' me out?" he teased with a twang, eyes sparkling.

She sat up and tossed him a flirtatious look. "Perhaps."

He laughed – god she loved that laugh. The way it crinkled his nose and the corners of his eyes, and the sound of it: rich, deep, and smooth. Sam grabbed her free hand, running his thumb lovingly over her knuckles.

"I was hoping we could go somewhere and talk…"

"I'd like that," she replied, smiling up at him. She took him by the hand and led him out, ignoring the lewd noises Artie and Finn made at them from the couch.

Once they reached her room, Mercedes kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief. She loved the height they gave her, but they killed. Sam also got comfortable, loosening his tie and taking off his vest, jacket, and shoes. She let her hair down from the clip it was in and flopped back onto the bed, motioning for him to join her.

Shifting to face her, he leaned on his right elbow, propping his head up on his hand. "So," he smiled.

"So," she returned, mirroring his position.

"Lie to me."

A nostalgic smile curved Mercedes' lips. "You look terrible in that suit." She arched her eyebrow playfully. "Tell me the truth."

"After these past couple days, I'm kicking myself for being afraid to approach you…I feel like we've lost so much time."

Mercedes saw regret flash in his eyes and swallowed the lump that began to form in her throat. "Tell me a lie."

"You didn't take my breath away when you came down the aisle during the ceremony," he said with a goofy grin. "Be honest with me."

"It's scaring me how easily I'm letting my guard down around you; it's only been a day but I can't bring myself to feel awkward or put walls up," she said, quietly.

"Lie to me," he requested, just as softly.

She studied his face for a few seconds before gently brushing his hair off his forehead. "You don't have my heart," she replied, trailing her fingers down his rugged jawline. "Tell me the truth."

Grabbing it, he pressed a kiss to the palm and back of her hand. "You've had mine since the summer before our senior year of high school," he said against her fingers.

"Tell me a lie, " Mercedes whispered.

"I'm not thinking about what's under that pretty little dress…"

"Samuel Arthur Evans!"

"Just saying," he grinned. "Be honest with me."

She paused in thought for a moment. "I miss sleeping with you; like actually falling asleep together," she admitted, with a sheepish grin.

"You know, I always slept better when I slept with you. That was one of the hardest things about being apart from you for so long: learning to sleep alone every night."

Mercedes' heart skipped a beat – was he saying that he didn't have another girlfriend in all that time? I mean sure, she asked Tina or Mike if he was alright from time to time, but she figured that they never talked about his new girlfriend because they thought it would hurt her, not because he didn't have one. She filed this piece of information away to examine at another time; she didn't want to ruin the mood.

"I'd like it if you'd sleep over," she said, squeezing his hand. "But literally just sleep. I'm warning you, Evans."

"Okay, _okay_," he chuckled, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "No seducing you tonight, I understand.

Sam stripped down to his boxers and she threw on a loose tank over her underwear before throwing her hair up in a bun. They slid into bed and their bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle: her back against his chest, his chin resting on her head, his arm resting in the dip of her waist. Neither Sam nor Mercedes dared to speak, listening to one another's breathing told them all they needed to know.

* * *

><p><strong>I had to end it on a fluffy-ish note, I've been overdosing y'all on the angst. And if you couldn't tell, I'm not the biggest Rachel Berry fan...I don't hate her, but I think it's just the hate I have for the Finchel storyline this season that's bleeding into the way I'm writing her character...ha.<strong>

**I'd love it if you let me know what you thought! Reading your reactions/comments don't just make me extremely happy, they encourage me to write! So thank you :)**

**-Em**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: On first page**

**A/N: Hey you guys! I want to thank you all for being so incredible with the reviews and all the alerts! You're giving me all these warm, fuzzy feelings, it's wonderful!**

**I use a snippet of John Legend's "Ordinary People" early in the chapter, and the full song in the flashback is James Morrison's "You Make It Real" – I suggest you queue up the Morrison song and listen to it to enhance your reading experience. Just add /watch?v=rRxccy-zcJ8&ob=av2n to the youtube home url.**

**As usual, flashbacks are in italics. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>For the second time in a row Sam found himself waking up in Mercedes' bed, something he wouldn't mind doing as many days in a row as possible. Groggily, he rolled over to pull her to him, but his arm landed on bunched up mounds of comforter – she wasn't there. A flash of panic washed over him until he realized that the shower was running. She was in the shower, not two rooms down with Santana freaking out about letting him sleepover.<p>

It was very strange for Mercedes to be up before him. He could count on one hand the times that happened in the three years they dated, though he supposed it wasn't impossible for things to change in the two years they'd been apart. Sam stretched out in the bed, relishing the feel of the cooler spots against his limbs. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he surveyed the room. His eyes landed on her discarded lingerie draped across the back of a chair, noting disappointedly that it meant he was asleep when she walked into the bathroom, nude.

It was a damn shame; watching her walk away clothed made him want to stand up and salute the view, but _naked_…well, that made another part of him stand up and salute the view.

When he managed to tear his eyes away from the silky undergarments, he continued looking around the sunbathed room. In the far corner, leaning against the wardrobe, was her guitar – _their_ guitar. Sam rose from the bed and retrieved the instrument from its case. Settling back against the headboard, he began absently strum the strings. His mind flashed back to every time he saw her small, soft hands strum and pluck out delicate melodies that she complemented with her voice. The same silky, soulful voice could now be heard above the steady spray of the shower.

_Maybe we'll live and learn_

_Maybe we'll crash and burn_

_Maybe you'll stay, maybe you'll leave,_

_Maybe you'll return_

_Maybe another fight_

_Maybe we won't survive_

_Maybe we'll grow_

_We never know baby you and I…_

Without so much as a thought he began to accompany her as her voice dipped, rose and ran poignantly through the chorus. Sam's heart flipped over in his chest at the emotion in her voice; he knew this was a form of therapy for her. Mercedes found the perfect song to address whatever was on her mind and just sang her heart out about it; she told him she'd been doing it since she was in middle school. And if she couldn't find a song to fit her situation, she'd write one – he heard her perform many of them while she was on tour.

"Putting my thoughts to music makes them more _real_, Sammy," Mercedes explained to him during their first summer together, "It's like I can get out of my headspace and objectively work through it all, but the music helps me to stay emotionally in tune the entire time."

He totally understood; it _was_ a great way to work things out, and she was doing it way before glee club rolled around. It's how Sam knew the perfect way to bring them back together the first time around.

_Sam walked into Breadstix, nervous as all get out. The party began at eight, but the God Squad sound check was scheduled for a little past seven. He marveled at the way the new girl, Sugar, had transformed the spot. The lighting was low and mellow, and pink and red decorations were everywhere – it was enough to put a bitter fracture in an already broken heart. Hopefully his will have been put together before the last dance._

_Glancing up at the stage he spotted Quinn, Joe, and Mercedes having an animated discussion. Well, Quinn and Mercedes were talking; Joe was just staring at Quinn with a puppy-dog expression. Nearing the group, he cleared his throat to get their attention, swallowing hard when the women fixed him with piercing glares for interrupting them._

"_Hey guys, I was just thinking we should probably start the sound check before people start arriving…" he trailed off, feeling awkward under the women's withering glances._

"_Sure," the other three replied in unison. They ran through snippets of each song selection and tweaked a few things here and there. Half an hour later they were as ready as they'd ever be. After making sure they were engaged in conversation (meaning, of course, that Quinn and Mercedes conversed while Joe watched Quinn) he made a last minute adjustment to the set list before confirming it with the band._

_Mercedes avoided eye contact with him for the first half of the party. He sang each song to her, almost completely disregarding the fact that they were on stage performing for guests – his eyes rarely left her face. She blushed knowing exactly what he was up to, but refused to meet his eyes. After their particularly moving serenade of Brittany courtesy of Santana, it seemed like she'd had enough. Sam watched as Mercedes stepped out for air and gave her a couple minutes before heading out to join her._

_He found her leaning against a pillar to the right of the door, staring at her shoes. Walking up to her, he stopped a couple of feet away and waved in her direction, not wanting to startle her, but it didn't work, she was clearly zoned out. "Hey," he greeted her, warmly._

_Startled, Mercedes jumped a little. She nodded a hello in his direction, still avoiding his eyes. "Hey, you."_

"_I just wanted to tell you that you're looking and sounding amazing tonight." Sam watched as a smile spread across her plump lips._

"_Thanks, you don't look or sound too shabby yourself, Sam," she said quietly, fiddling with the skirt of her pink dress._

"_Look, I-"_

"_Sam, please don't go there, not tonight."_

"_I was just going to ask you if you finished the Squad's fundraising report. Figgins needs the club's figures by Monday," he lied._

"_Oh…_oh._" She looked up at him with wide eyes, trying to hide the embarrassment he knew she felt, "Yeah, I ran the numbers earlier today. It seems like we've collected the money for 16 serenades, but we only scheduled 15, including tonight." Mercedes regarded him with a confused expression._

"_I have a feeling it'll all work out. At any rate we should head back inside. This cold can't be good for our poor overworked voices." He smiled at her soft chuckle and the way she let him guide her inside with his hand on the small of her back._

"_Fifteen minutes until our next number," she reminded him before turning towards Kurt._

"_It's a bit sooner than that for me," he called after her. She whipped back around with a question in her eyes, but before she could say anything he was striding up to the stage._

"_How's everyone doing tonight?" Sam asked the audience. They answered back with a roar. "As most of you know, I'm Sam Evans, part of the God Squad – you know, the group that's been rocking it out for the past couple hours." That earned him a huge cheer._

"_Thank you. I just wanted to take a little time to remind all of you that love is all around us – it may not be romantic love, but it's love all the same. And I, for one, am so very grateful for it all." The guests applauded and he could have sworn he heard Artie shout 'Preach!' from the back._

"_It's no secret that I've been through quite a lot this past year, but thanks to the love and support of all my wonderful friends, I've made it through." The New Directions burst into a cheer so loud he had to pause for them to finish before continuing. "But there is one person in particular who has helped me in more ways than she knows."_

_Mike and Puck came up on stage and stood on either side of him, grabbing microphones. "She told me that when there was something she just couldn't talk through, she sang about it, because music has a power that words alone lack." Sam smiled as he saw realization dawn in Mercedes eyes; Kurt was practically bouncing with anticipation next to her. "I've been blessed to have a lot of love in my life, but her love changed my life. This is for you, Troubletone."_

There's so much craziness surrounding me

There's so much going on, it gets hard to breathe

When all my faith has gone, you bring it back to me -

You make it real for me

_Mercedes had a hand over her mouth and was watching him with wide, shining eyes._

When I'm not sure of my priorities

When I've lost sight of where I'm meant to be

Like holy water washing over me

You make it real for me

_Puck and Mike harmonized softly with him as he launched into the chorus, his eyes focused on his increasingly emotional love._

And I'm running to you baby

You are the only one who saved me

That's why I've been missing you lately

Cause you make it real for me

_Leaving his friends up on the stage, he made his way over to her, heart pounding. He was shocked when a teary-eyed Mercedes stole his mic and began to sing to _him_._

When my head is strong, but my heart is weak

I'm full of arrogance and uncertainty

When I can't find the words you teach my heart to speak -

You make it real for me

_Sam fought back tears of his own as he watched her sing earnestly to him, wearing her heart on her sleeve in front of everyone. It took him until she sang the whole verse and chorus to realize that Quinn ran and got him the fourth mic and was pressing it into his hand. He had a hard time seeing anything but her now tear filled eyes as he sang to her._

Everybody's talking in words I don't understand

You got to be the only one who knows just who I am

You shine in the distance I hope I can make it through

Cause the only place that I want to be

Is right back home with you

_He heard her choke back a sob as he took her hand and squeezed it tenderly._

I guess there's so much more

I have to learn

But if you're here with me

I know which way to turn

You always give me somewhere,

Somewhere I can run -

You make it real for me

_Mercedes practically beamed up at him through her tears as he, Mike, and Puck tore through the chorus one last time with all the guests clapping along to the beat. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he smiled gently down at her. "Will you be mine, Mercedes Jones?"_

"_Of course, you fool," she sniffled, wrapping her arms around his neck as the party broke into wild applause._

"_Do you think they know?" Sam whispered softly in her ear as she giggled into his chest._

He was brought back to the present moment by the dulcet tones of Mercedes Jones singing James Morrison.

* * *

><p>As soon as she turned off the water, Mercedes heard a very familiar tune being played on an even more familiar instrument. Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a towel securely around her body before leaning on the frame of the door between the bedroom and the bathroom, just watching him. The man was sitting on her bed in nothing but boxers playing the absolute shit out of that guitar.<p>

One of the things she loved most about Sam was the intensity with which he played. He got so lost in the music, eyes closed, swaying to rhythm he created. She loved the tension in his muscular arms, the way he bit on his full bottom lip, and the graceful way his long fingers moved over the strings; it was _sexy_. Mercedes stood watching the music flow from his fingers before joining in at the very end:

_That's why I've been missing you lately_

_Cause you make it real for me_

_You make it real for me_

His eyes snapped open and he grinned as he strummed the last chord. Dear god, he was so gorgeous with his charming smile and bright eyes and bedhead. His eyes drank in her figure in the little towel and she felt her face heat up and her heart race. She calmed down only slightly when his gaze switched from predatory to searching.

"You know, I was surprised you knew that song."

"Is that so?" Mercedes put a hand on her hip, eyebrow arched in mock aggravation, "I _did_ have more than R&B on my iPod, you know," she sassed. "You should have remembered how diverse my musical taste is from that first summer," she gently chided, watching him blush.

"No, I know that Mercy, gosh." Sam stuck his tongue out at her. "I just wasn't expecting you to hijack my serenade."

"Like I did just now?" She watched curiously as he blushed even deeper.

"To be honest, I wasn't aware that I was playing that song," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess my fingers kind of went with where my mind was wandering off to."

Mercedes heart melted when she realized he'd been thinking about that Valentine's Day dance their senior year of high school; the one where they'd gotten back together.

"I just thought, you know, if it worked once…" he began, grinning impishly. God, his smile would be the death of her.

"So original, " she teased, grabbing her cellphone to check the time. "By the way, you have a little less than 45 minutes to get showered and dressed for brunch."

She almost laughed at the panic that flashed across his face. Setting the guitar down gently on the bed, he sprang up and began to get dressed in a hurry. Mercedes sat next to the guitar, enjoying the sight of his fit body rushing around the room.

"Why didn't you wake me when you got up?" Sam whined, scrambling to zip up his pants while his eyes combed the room for his shoes.

"You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you," she admitted. "You were all curled up with a little smile on your face, it was adorable. I should have taken a picture," she grinned at color coming into his cheeks.

"Gee, _thanks_," Sam quipped, slipping on his shirt. "I guess you also thought it would be cute if Tina chewed me out for being late to brunch?"

"No, of _course_ not," she cooed, "that would just be straight up _hilarious_."

"I forgot how endearing your sense of humor can be," he muttered, gathering up the rest of his stuff with a smirk on his face. When he was dressed and ready, he came and sat next to her on the bed. "Thank you," he said with a soft smile.

"For what? Making you late?"

Sam laughed, "No, for last night," he said, fixing her with that trademark intense gaze.

Mercedes felt her cheeks grow warm. "We just slept in the same bed, Sam."

"I know, Mercy. Thank you for allowing me to spend two equally intimate nights in bed with you," he said in a low voice. Cupping her cheek, he ran his thumb over the warm apple before pressing a kiss into her dimple.

She felt her breath catch in her chest; leave it to Sam to make a kiss on the cheek shoot the same tingle through her body as a full blown kiss.

"See you in a bit, Troubletone," he whispered with a smile before leaving the room.

Mercedes sat on the bed with her hand pressed to the spot where his lips had just been. How it was even possible that she had these butterflies in her stomach, she didn't know. But there he was, Sam Evans, making her feel like a sixteen year old who'd just gotten her first kiss.

After she managed to get her self together, she began to get dressed. Thankfully she settled on her outfit back in Chicago. After taking care of her skin, she slipped on an airy, flowing maxi dress in a pretty cranberry hue. Adding a skinny mahogany belt to define her waist, she slipped on her favorite bronze sandals and a cream lace-backed shrug. She decided to put her hair in a loose single braid, letting a few pieces frame her face and put on minimal makeup: a little liner, mascara, blush, and gloss would do.

Delving into her jewelry box for the finishing touches, Mercedes found her fingers brushing against a familiar ring yet again. This time, she took it out and stared at it. She was shocked to find herself toying with the idea of putting it on. _Whoa there, not yet_, she scolded herself as she placed it back in its compartment. Settling on a leather and brass bracelet, ruby studs, and a necklace with a vintage locket, she closed the box and put it away. No rings for her today.

After a final check in the floor length mirror, she discovered she got dressed with almost 20 minutes to spare. Mercedes decided to go down to Quinn's room for a little girl talk. She almost opened the door before remembering that Puck might be in there as well; and when Puck and Quinn were alone behind a closed door, there was only one thing that could be happening. Deciding to play it safe, she knocked.

"Come in!"

Mercedes entered the room, smiling at her beautiful friend. Quinn was at the vanity putting on her makeup. She was dressed in a steel blue sheath that made her eyes seem greener than usual. "You didn't ask who it was."

Quinn turned and regarded her with a bemused expression. "After all these years, you think I don't know your knock?" She paused and looked Mercedes up and down. "Oh my goodness, you look _so _good! It's like boho-glam or something, I love it."

"Thanks, Quinnie," she smiled. "You look effortlessly chic as always."

Quinn waved away the compliment. "You're just too sweet, Mercedes Jones," she said, blushing, "you always have been."

Mercedes just smiled at her modesty; it was definitely one of her newer traits, and she wore it well. "So," she began, "how'd the game end up last night? Did Britt take you guys again?"

"Yup," Quinn snorted, "we've been sleepin' on her. I could practically see the scheming in San's eyes. Mark my words – by this time next year she'll have her playing professionally."

"I don't doubt it," Mercedes laughed.

"Speaking of last night," Quinn began in a mischievous tone, "Where did you and _Sam_ sneak off to, hmm?"

Mercedes felt her face flush; of course they just had to have left the room hand in hand in plain view of Artie, VP of gossip - second only to Tina. "Let me guess, you all had a round table discussion about us after we left," she deflected.

Quinn began to hum softly, avoiding her eyes and studying the hell out of her perfume bottle.

"Lucy Quinn Fabray, you did _not_!" Mercedes felt her heart begin to beat wildly in her chest.

"Nothing bad, I _swear_! We just love you guys and noticed that you've gotten especially cozy these last couple of days…"

"And you thought it would be fun to discuss over drinks," Mercedes said, dryly.

The blonde's eyes widened. "_No_, Mercy, I _swear_ it wasn't like we were just tossing gossip around. We're just concerned is all. _I_ am concerned about you," she confessed.

Mercedes sat down on the edge of the bed and pinched the bridge of her nose to center herself. "Look, Quinn, I know you guys love me, and I love you too, but this is between me and Sam– "

"_Stop it_!" Mercedes ' head snapped up in surprise – she had _never_ heard Quinn yell at her like that. "Just _stop_. You always do this!" She watched as Quinn began to pace, frustrated.

She stared up at her friend, taken aback. "Stop _what_?"

"Mercy, you are a nurturer, I get that. It's one of the things I love the most about you; you're always willing to take on other people's problems and help them heal. But no one person is meant to do it all alone, and this _history_ you have with Sam is intense at best. You got _hurt_, Mercedes. I don't even think that 'hurt' is enough to describe how you felt.

"And the entire time you insisted on putting the pieces back together by yourself, even though Tina, San, me, _everyone_ would have helped you – _wanted_ to help you. It hurt me to watch you hurt. And I know there's a lot of love still there, and maybe things aren't over for you two; I can respect that. But what I won't have is his immaturity shattering you again – and I told him as much."

"You _what_?" Mercedes couldn't believe that last part; when did Quinn find time to threaten Sam? "Dear _god_, Quinn, what did you say?"

Quinn sat next to her friend, taking her hands into her own. "I just told him to be careful with you," she admitted, softly. "Look, Mercy; you're the kind of person that makes everyone feel comfortable and safe enough to let their guard down – you make them want to let you in. But I know how hard it is for _you_ to let anyone in; we're alike in that respect. So knowing that you let him get so close and then that you got burned? It just doesn't sit well with me."

"_Quinn_…" Mercedes felt the tears threatening to spill over her lashes as her friend squeezed her hands, lovingly.

"I know, you love him," she said, quietly. "And from our brief conversation I can see that he's still head over heels in love with you. Just promise me that you'll take this slow, okay?" She swallowed, blinking back the tears in her eyes. "I don't know if I can handle seeing you like that again," she choked out, wrapping her friend in a hug.

She relaxed into Quinn's embrace; she felt safe and warm, and her hair still smelled like gardenias. It brought her back to all the late nights and Sunday mornings they spent cuddled in bed, talking and laughing and crying together. "I promise," she sniffled against her shoulder.

"Good." She felt her give one final squeeze before pulling away. "Ugh, you flawless bitch," she sniffled, "how is all of your makeup perfect after this little sobfest?"

Mercedes laughed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "It's because _I'll_ admit I'm a crybaby so I use waterproof stuff."

"Oh shut up," Quinn muttered, stifling a giggle. She fixed herself up and did a final check in the mirror before turning back to her friend. "Ready to go?"

"_Mhmm_," Mercedes replied, lacing her brown fingers through Quinn's pale ones, leading her out of the room and down the hallway.

"Sam's gonna be _so_ jealous," she whispered into Mercedes' ear, planting a kiss on her cheek. "I've got the hottest brunch date _ever_."

* * *

><p>Sam paced outside the door that led to the grounds off the west wing; he wanted to walk to the garden brunch with Mercedes on his arm. Just the thought of how well things were coming together for them put a huge, dopey grin on his face.<p>

He knew that it would be a while before they'd be a couple, but he was going to enjoy the wooing process. If he was being honest with himself, he loved it just as much as being in an actual relationship. It wasn't because of 'the chase' necessarily; it had more to do with it being the time when his 'hopeless romantic' side got to shine. Sam loved the challenge that came with creatively expressing his feelings.

Hearing her soft giggle float from around the corner, he snapped himself out of his thoughts and straightened up. The smile on his face faltered slightly when he saw her hand in hand with Quinn, having what looked like an intimate conversation. He wanted a chance to talk to her before they got to the table, but he figured it would be okay – after all, Quinn would sit with Puck and then they'd be free to sit together. As soon as he worked this all out in his head, the women walked right past him, giggling with each other without so much as a glance of acknowledgement. He paused for a moment, shocked, before going out after them.

"Hey, Fabray, where do you think you're going with my brunch…" he paused, not knowing if using the word 'date' would freak Mercedes out, "…buddy?"

The women turned to face him, both looking beautiful – though his girl absolutely glowed in that deep red dress. "_Buddy_? Really?" the petite blonde laughed, "as if, Evans. She's my date to brunch, _aren't you, darling_?" Quinn practically purred into Mercedes' ear. Sam's jaw clenched when he saw the way Mercedes' eyelashes fluttered as she blushed and nodded – what was that about?

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm apparently spoken for, as far as this function goes," Mercedes said, teasingly.

"I think Puck's free," Quinn quipped, a haughty arch in her brow. With that, she laced her fingers through Mercedes' and led her on to the garden.

Sam just stood for a few minutes, trying to process what just happened. After all these years, Quinn still had the ability to both scare and infuriate the hell out of him. Was he _jealous_? And if he was, what was he jealous of?

He chalked it up to his possessive streak. Quinn knew he had a bit of one, and after yesterday's _chat_, he gathered that though she gave her consent, she did so grudgingly. She was probably just trying to get a rise out of him, to frustrate him so he gave up. Sam laughed quietly to himself as he made his way to the garden; she could play her games, it wouldn't discourage him at all.

In the middle of the garden was an impressively long table set up under a tent made of soft, almost transparently white fabric. Most of the bridal party and the newlyweds' family members were already seated. Sam sat across from the giggling pair, next to Puck who shot him a knowing look as he made him a mimosa.

"You know how protective she gets over Cede," he said, "don't let it get to you, man."

"It doesn't," Sam grumbled, "It won't." He sipped sullenly on his drink as he watched Quinn tighten her grip on Mercedes' waist as the pair leaned in towards each other, deep in conversation.

"Keep lying to yourself." Puck fixed him with an amused gaze.

"Yeah, yeah." Sam nodded a hello to Finn, who took the seat to his left.

"On a serious note," he began, his gaze hardening, "you're my boy, but if you hurt her again, I will have to kick your ass."

Sam nodded, "I'm just surprised you didn't the first time around." He heard Finn laugh.

"Oh, I wanted to, believe me." Puck leaned back in his chair, with a smirk. "But she wouldn't allow it. You're lucky as hell."

Just then, the guests of honor arrived and they all stood to receive them, clapping and cheering. Sam was glad to see how happy they were; they practically radiated bliss. The way Mike's eyes were glued to his wife's ass as he pulled out her chair for her told him the glow _probably_ wasn't due to happiness alone. Tina clinked her knife gingerly against her champagne flute to get their attention.

"Good morning, everyone," she greeted them with a huge smile. "Mike and I want to thank you all for sharing this weekend with us. It's been absolutely _beyond_ perfect, and we couldn't be happier," she smiled up at her husband as he put his arm around her shoulders.

"She's right," Mike said before letting out a groan. "Oh, god, I'll probably be saying that a lot more often, won't I…" everyone laughed as Tina playfully smacked his arm before accepting a kiss. "But seriously, Tina and I consider everyone sitting here today family. You've been there with and for us through it all, and we know that you'll be there in years to come."

"So this morning, we'd like to propose a toast to you, our family," she declared, raising her glass. "May each and every one of you be blessed enough to find and keep the happiness that we experience with each other every single day." Everyone raised their glass and toasted the sentiment.

"Now dig in!" Mike exclaimed, gesturing at the spread with a boyish grin.

There was pleasant conversation and laughter all across the table as they ate. Sam couldn't help but notice how Quinn monopolized Mercedes' attention, pulling her into another "girl chat" as soon as her brown eyes happened to rest on him. Puck was deep in a conversation about all things Jewish with Tina's grandfather, so he decided to ignore her baiting and talk to Finn.

"Hey man," he greeted him, "feeling better?"

Finn took a deep breath before answering. "Yeah. I've just let it go, you know? It's gonna take some time to completely get over it, but at least things are done and I can work through it in peace."

"For sure. And you know I'm here if you ever need to talk," Sam assured him with a fraternal punch to his arm.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks," Finn replied with a weak smile.

The meal was unfolding wonderfully; Sam even managed to catch Mercedes' attention a few times to toss her a flustering wink, much to Quinn's chagrin. There was little more satisfying than seeing her mouth form that little smile that was just for him – Quinn's frustration was a close second, though.

Sam was engaged in a discussion of the potential some of the newest recruits for Finn's team when his friend suddenly paled. Following his line of vision, he saw a short brunette marching briskly across the grounds in their direction.

_Oh dear Lord, not her_, Sam groaned inwardly.

* * *

><p><strong>She's <strong>_**baaack**_**, haha. I'm glad a lot of you are okay with the way I'm writing Berry, I know it can be harsh at times.**

**How about that Quinncedes cuteness, hmm? **

**I'd appreciate it if you took a few seconds to leave me a review with your thoughts! Thank you so much for reading!**

**-Em**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: on first page**

**A/N: Finally, they let me post this update! Ha. I had this for you guys last night, but the upload function kept logging me out. As always, thank you so much for the reviews and alerts! If you could see the huge, dopey grin I get whenever I see an e-mail from FF, you'd laugh...hard. You guys are awesome!**

**I'd like to dedicate this chapter to keeponsmilingg, because she is fantastic.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Mercedes tried not to laugh at the stricken look on Sam's face as Quinn led her away from him. A part of her felt bad that she ditched him; he clearly had intentions of spending brunch with her as his "buddy" – whatever that meant. She tried to push away the nagging little bit of guilt she felt and focused on the words coming out of Quinn's mouth.<p>

"…_priceless_, like he was a puppy, and I took away his favorite chew toy."

"What?"

"Were you listening to me at all-" she stopped walking and her face dropped. "What's wrong?"

Mercedes shifted, uneasy. "It's nothing, really…just, um, his face was kind of _really_ sad," she said quietly, fidgeting with her locket.

Quinn gingerly placed a hand on her arm. "He'll be fine, Mercy. You're such a softie, it's adorable." She laced her pale fingers through her friend's dark ones and squeezed reassuringly. "Besides, it's not like you told him we were dating or something, though from the look on his face you'd think that's exactly what we said," she laughed tugging her once again towards the garden.

Something deep in her stomach fluttered, and she chose to ignore it, entertaining Quinn's idle chatter as the elegant tented setup came into view. Once they were seated across from Puck and a disgruntled Sam, she poured herself a drink and focused once again on Quinn's words.

"Tell me you're free the first weekend of June," she leaned in almost conspiratorially, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "not that I'm going to take no for an answer."

Mercedes eyed her, raising a brow. She knew that tone, and she knew that look. Quinn either had an amazing idea, a scandalous one, or – the most likely scenario – some unholy mixture of the two. She took a deep sip of her mimosa before replying. "Why do you ask?"

"_Well_," she said, teasingly drawing the word out as she wrapped an arm around her waist, "Puck is going to yet another convention and I may or may not booked us a weekend at that one spa you were _dying_ to visit…"

"Quinn, you _didn't._" She watched as the blonde put on a confused pout.

"I thought…I thought you said you always wanted to spend a weekend there…"

"Oh I _do_. You have no idea how badly, actually."

"Then why-"

Just then, Tina and Mike came to join them. It only took one look at Tina's glowing face to know that they had themselves _quite_ an evening. _Mhmm, _she thought to herself, _he shut it down last night._ She listened to their endearing toast, making a mental note to tease her best friend mercilessly later on. It was adorable watching them interact and play off each other; it made her feel so warm. She loved their love. After raising her glass to the couple she turned back to Quinn, but not before catching a tingle-inducing wink from across the table.

"It's _too much_, Quinnie," she sighed. "Isn't it practically a grand a night?"

"So?" Quinn shrugged. "I love you, and I have a chunk of my advance set aside to spend on what I love."

Shortly after graduating at the top of her class at Yale, Quinn took a grueling job as an assistant at a huge publishing house. She tried for months to get someone of importance to read her work to no avail. After submitting her work under a pen name, they snapped her up so fast it gave her whiplash.

She was months away from having the second book in her series of genderbent historical fiction published, and the critics were in love from the first page of the first installment. With wild popularity, critical acclaim, and having a movie deal in the works came a comfortable living. But Quinn's ability to more than afford a lavish weekend getaway didn't erase the unease Mercedes felt at the gesture.

"I can't let you-"

"_Let me._" She squeezed Mercedes' waist lovingly. "What did we _just_ talk about upstairs? You better shut up and let me spoil you before I decide to take Rachel," she laughed.

"Uh-uh. Like you would ever pick Berry over me," she side-eyed her friend. "Besides, that girl needs intensive therapy, and not of the seaweed wrap and hot stone massage variety."

"You have a point," Quinn giggled, "so are you coming or what?"

Mercedes touched her forehead to Quinn's and grabbed the hand that sat in her lap. "You drive a hard bargain, but I _guess _I can let you take me," she laughed.

Quinn practically bounced with excitement, embracing her friend. "It's been so long since we've had some quality time together, I can't wait."

They fell into easy conversation during their meal about all of the things they couldn't wait to try at the resort. Every now and then Mercedes would feel Sam's eyes on her, even as he was talking to other people. Her heart raced when she caught his glance and he raised a brow teasingly or sent her another wink.

Apparently Quinn wasn't as thrilled with the flirting as she was, because she'd squeeze her hand and draw her back into conversation whenever she caught them. If Mercedes didn't know any better she'd have sworn that there was some jealousy mixed in with the annoyance that flashed in her friend's eyes, but she wasn't ready to explore that possibility.

She casted another furtive peek at Sam, who was talking to an exhausted looking Finn, when she saw them pale. She followed their line of vision and saw Rachel coming towards the table.

"Fuck."

Quinn shot her a puzzled glance before turning around. "Wha- Oh dear _god_."

A disheveled Rachel Berry dressed in yesterday's clothes strode up to the table, clearing her throat obnoxiously until everyone turned to look at her. Finn all but slid under the table.

"Hello everyone. Tina, Mike, you look well. Congratulations on your nuptials; I'm sure you'll bring some fairly talented children into this world. Of course they won't be quite the triple threat my child will be, but I digress."

The entire table fell into an awkward silence. Stunned that she had the audacity to throw a thinly veiled insult at the newlyweds when she was an unwanted guest, they shifted uncomfortably. Sam, Quinn, Santana, Mercedes, Mike and Tina glared in her direction.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your little meal but Finn and I have important matters to discuss regarding-"

"_Rachel_! That's enough." Mercedes was surprised to see Sam spring up from his seat. Finn just looked like he was going to be sick. He took her hand and began to lead her towards the house. She snatched her hand back and stood in front of Finn, a crazed look in her eye.

"_Regarding_ his utter lack of loyalty to me. I may have had an…_indiscretion_. But you owe me everything, Finn Hudson. Would you have chosen the Rutgers football program if it wasn't close to me in New York? No - you wouldn't have attended or ever been considered for that coaching job without me pushing you.

"My desire for greatness was the catalyst for you to _make_ _something_ of yourself, and now you want to leave me when you can finally repay me for all of the good I've done you?" Rachel sniffed, indignant. "We can and will work through this little…_turn of events_. I won't be deprived. I didn't put up with years of your moronic, uncultured babble to be _abandoned_."

The tension ran stiflingly thick, and Mercedes found the secondhand embarrassment of Rachel's tirade almost unbearable. She felt Quinn stiffen next to her and grip her hand tightly, no doubt to keep from slapping some sense into the woman. Brittany practically pulled Santana into her lap to keep her from lunging, one arm tightly around her waist, and a hand on her mouth.

The newlyweds were slack jawed from shock, and their family members were all taken aback. Sam stood a few feet away from her, clenching both his fists and jaw in an effort to keep calm. The rest of the former glee club was glaring at Rachel so hard it was a wonder she didn't burst into flames.

Finn's eyes were darkened in anger and hurt in a way she'd never seen; her heart went out to him. It seemed like the entire table was paused, waiting for his reaction. He stood slowly, and turned to face her.

"Rachel," he said quietly but firmly, "I think you have done enough to ruin this for Tina and Mike. If you want to beat a dead horse and rehash this argument, let's do it somewhere private. Because if you're gonna insist on this being a public conversation, I might not be so nice as to avoid exposing your _indiscretion_." The icy look he gave Rachel found Mercedes suffering some peripheral frostbite.

Rachel seemed unfazed by his tone and gaze. "So you aren't going to change your mind then," she stated flatly, boldly returning his stare.

Finn let out a frustrated growl, scrubbing his hand over his face. "Mike, Tina…I am so sorry," he said, turning to face the couple, "you don't deserve to end your weekend on this note. If she won't walk away, I will." He turned around and started towards the estate. Rachel let him get about five yards away before opening her mouth.

"_Go ahead_," she called after him harshly, "it figures you'd walk away. No real man would walk away from a confrontation – or his _pregnant_ girlfriend, for that matter."

Mercedes could have sworn that each and every person at the long table took a gasp, simultaneously, and held that breath. She watched Finn stop dead in his tracks before turning slowly on his heel.

"_What did you just say?" _he questioned, his voice dangerously low.

Mercedes was stunned to see something akin to panic flash in Rachel's eyes; no doubt she regretted her outburst. She quickly composed herself. "You heard me," she replied, her falsely confident tone doing nothing to hide the tremor in her voice. "Now le- let's go sort this out privately. I think we've given everyone enough of a show," she said primly.

Finn said nothing, simply staring as he walked slowly back to where she stood. The disappointment in his expression overpowered the anger, and the cool detachment with which he regarded her was chilling.

"Oh no," he chuckled, coldly, "you don't get privacy now, not after insulting my intelligence and manhood in the middle of our friends' celebration. First of all, you're not my girlfriend. I told you last night I never want to see you again, and I meant it. And after this stunt you pulled, I doubt many of the people you used to be able to call your friends still want that title."

He walked a few feet away before turning back one last time. "And maybe next time you start dating a 'hopeless jock' – as you so kindly put it – you'll make sure he's dumb enough to believe the baby is actually _his_."

* * *

><p>Sam watched as Finn walked back into the estate, then sprung into action. The first thing on his mind was damage control. He turned to see Rachel standing with an unreadable expression on her face. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he tried to guide her inside once again, but she shrugged him off and stormed back in the direction she came from. Kurt and Blaine got up and followed her, probably to make sure she stayed away from Finn.<p>

Appetite and mood ruined, they began to apologize profusely on Rachel's behalf to the newlyweds and their family. Mercedes had her arm around Tina and was whispering in the distraught woman's ear while rubbing her arm. Sam caught Mike's eye to make sure he was okay before heading out to find Finn. He was about to head inside when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me," Puck said, gruffly. "I was the problem the first time around, it's high time I be part of the solution. Besides, I'm pretty sure Tina and Mercedes are gonna need you, and Santana wants blood – I'm not sure how long Brittany can hold her." With that, he turned Sam back in the direction of the garden and headed inside.

When he got back to the table, Sam saw that Tina, Mike, and their family were no longer there. "Wait, where'd they go?"

"They had post-brunch plans for a guided tour of the area before her family leaves tonight," Mercedes informed him with a sigh, "I told them they might as well go take their time to freshen up and try and shake off the bad mood." She rested her head against Quinn's shoulder, letting her friend play with the end of her braid.

Sam glanced around the table. A little further down from where Quinn and Mercedes sat, Brittany sat with Santana still in her lap. She was speaking quietly to her while rubbing her back. Surprisingly, Artie was on her other side, holding her hand and nodding at whatever Brittany was saying. They all sat in the first comfortable silence of the day, using the time to decompress.

Kurt and Blaine came back and sat on Sam's right. Kurt's face was flushed with anger while Blaine's registered a quiet disappointment. Blaine reached for his boyfriend's hand and began to gently caress it in an effort to calm him down.

"She is fucking nuts," Kurt muttered, leaning back into his boyfriend with an exasperated sigh.

"I know, babe. Just let it go," Blaine murmured into Kurt's hair, planting a kiss on his head.

Try as he might, he couldn't ignore that jealous twinge that came back at the sight of everyone all cozied up to commiserate about crazy Berry. Mercedes should be resting her head on _his_ shoulder, not Quinn's. He wasn't going to make a scene about it; he knew they were especially close – you can't be at the birth of someone's child and not be. But that didn't stop him from feeling particularly alone in the midst of all the affection.

"How's Finn doing?" Kurt inquired, shaking Sam out of his thoughts.

"I'm not sure. I was going to go after him, but Puck told me he wanted to handle this one, so I let him," Sam replied.

"Uhhhm...I don't know if he was the best person to do that…" Kurt said, visibly worried. "I mean, I love Noah, but he _was_ the cause of this same scenario the first time…"

"That's why he should be talking to him, in my opinion," Sam shrugged. "He gave me some really solid advice this weekend about another subject where he didn't used to have the best track record. He's changed a lot guys, remember that." Kurt nodded, satisfied.

"Where is She-who-must-not-be-named?" Artie asked Kurt.

Kurt sat up and crossed his legs with a sigh. "We called her a cab and sent her to her hotel. We told her that she needed to leave Finn alone and just give him some space. Oh, and that we'd be there for her and the baby no matter what, but that she needs to start thinking about how her actions affect others-"

"But of course she took that as us saying that we're on Finn's side and called us 'traitors' before slamming the cab door in our faces," finished Blaine, massaging his temples.

"Oh dear Lord…" muttered Mercedes.

"That child needs Jesus..." Artie murmured with an expression of disapproval.

"She's Jewish, Artie," Quinn reminded him.

"_So_? That's clearly _not_ working for her…"

They all had a much needed laugh at that, and it served to lighten the mood. Brittany and Santana excused themselves, explaining they had plans to go hiking in a bit. Kurt and Blaine also strolled off to have some drama-free couple time. The four left at the table chatted amicably, but Sam knew Quinn was about to take off with Mercedes in a couple minutes. He saw that protective glint in her eye. He had nothing against hanging out with Artie, in fact they were pretty close, but he didn't have two years of silence between them to make up for.

Deciding that challenging Quinn by just leading Mercedes away would only make things worse, he tried a subtle approach. "So Q, I hear your book is being turned into a movie," he began, steering the conversation. "Congratulations, that's a huge deal." He was being sincere; he may have a strange relationship with her, but he was proud of all she'd made of herself.

Quinn shot him a genuine smile; one he hadn't seen in years. "Yeah. We're in negotiations now, but it's happening. Things are iffy about the amount of creative control I want to let go of, you know? That book is like a child to me; three years worth of labor and all."

"Do you have a clear vision of how you want it to play out on screen?" Artie inquired.

"Well I was hoping my genius director friend would help me flesh it out a bit more, but I have some of the basic ideas down pretty clearly." She patted his hand fondly.

"Of course, you know you're my girl," Artie smiled. And with that, they launched into an intense discussion of the business.

Signaling Mercedes with an arch of his brow and a subtle nod in the direction of the house, he rose. When she followed him, Quinn paused in conversation, and her eyes let him know she was on to what he'd done. Thankfully they told him she was more amused and impressed than aggravated. She gave him a small smile and a nod and turned back to Artie.

He grabbed her small, warm hand and brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to their fingers and smiling when he heard her content sigh. Sam led Mercedes to a small terrace he discovered accidentally when looking for a place to have their conversation yesterday. Up a couple flights of stairs was a small, cozy balcony terrace with a view of the lush hills and fields of Napa. They reclined on a low couch, her thighs across his lap and her cheek on his chest, his arms wrapped around her. Silently they sat, basking in the warmth of the sun.

Sam couldn't help but let his hands wander over her body – the parts that wouldn't get them in too much trouble, anyway – this taking it slow thing was killing him. He was glad she hadn't gotten too small; her tummy was still soft, her cheeks plump, and her thighs retained their lovely thickness. One of his favorite parts about her was the way she contrasted with him: where his body was hard, hers was soft and where his skin was pale, hers was warm and dark. Where he was tall, she was short, and his large hands engulfed her little fingers.

Their differences are what made her so attractive to him. Not just the physical differences, but also those in their personalities. He was passionate and ambitious, but also impulsive and idealistic at times. Mercedes was a planner: pragmatic and responsible while also being exceedingly compassionate. She kept him grounded and focused and he, in turn, expanded her imagination and helped her to see that it was okay to live in the moment.

He only wished a little more of her personality had rubbed off on him before he decided to propose to her in college. His immaturity almost killed their relationship. _Almost_ – here they were rebuilding. Sam now understood her side of things, and sincerely apologized to her – he'd even started to forgive himself. He decided it was time she heard his side of things.

"_Sam Evans_!"

He looked down to meet her eyes staring up at him with a look that was a mixture of shock and bemusement.

"What?"

"Do you agree that we should be taking things slow?"

Sam cocked his head in confusion, he didn't really understand how cuddling was going too fast. "Yes…"

"You do know that by 'take things slow' I don't mean 'slowly inch your hand up the inside of my thigh'…" Mercedes slapped at his wrist.

Sam felt like his face was on fire. Old habits die hard, he supposed. He hadn't even realized where his hand was heading; he was lost in thought. "Heh. Sorry…autopilot."

"_Mhmm, sure._" She laughed as he blushed even deeper. "I love it - even when your mind is off someplace, your body is still working on seducing me. It would."

"_Clearly I'm programmed to please you_," he whispered into her ear, kissing the sensitive skin behind it. Sam blew on her neck, loving the way she shivered, and alternated teasing kisses with gentle nips. He groaned when he felt her shift into his lap and her nails rake lightly down his chest. Mercedes brought her lips up to meet his, and he practically moaned into her mouth when she tangled her fingers in his hair and gave it a good tug.

She had Peter Parker ready to shoot a web or two before he remembered that he was supposed to be having some kind of serious, relationship-building conversation with her, not picking out a position in his head.

The little whine Mercedes let out when he pulled away from her almost broke his resolve. She rolled her hips off his lap and back onto the couch, laughing at his gasp. "That was just _mean_," he pouted at her.

"Hey, you ended it. I was just making sure you knew what you were missing." Mercedes batted her full lashes at him, in faux innocence.

He knew damn well what he was missing.

"Stop blinking those doe eyes at me like you're innocent, Troubletone. You have to remember that I know better." Sam smirked at her petulant nose scrunch. "Believe it or not, I was planning on having a grown-up conversation with you before you _seduced me._"

"Oh really?" Mercedes snorted. "Was that before or after you started kissing on my neck?"

"_Guilty_," he grinned, "and I'm not even sorry."

She shook her head and laughed at his shameless grin. "_Anyway_, what is this alleged conversation supposed to be about?"

Sam took her hands in his and stared down at them, clearing his throat. "I wanted to try and explain a little bit about why things ended up, you know, the way they did that night."

She inhaled, sharply. "_Oh._" Mercedes paused for a moment before squeezing his hand. "If you are comfortable talking about it, I want to listen."

He nodded and swallowed before beginning. "When you hesitated, I started to panic, plain and simple. We were so in love, and I mean it was some real, grown ass love. I never imagined you hesitating, let alone saying no." Sam took a deep, shaky breath. "And I guess in a way that explains why we were in no position to be getting engaged."

"What do you mean?" Mercedes regarded him with a furrowed brow.

Letting go of one of his hands, he cupped her cheek, running a calloused thumb over her soft cheek. "When an adult makes a decision, especially one that is as life altering as proposing, they need to consider and prepare for all possible outcomes of that decision. In my immaturity, I was so certain you'd say yes that I never prepared myself for the possibility of you not being ready. And then when you turned me down I shut down completely." He took a deep, shuddering breath and felt her fingers begin caress his neck in a soothing rhythm.

"As soon as I got on the train back to campus, I knew on some level that I'd handled the entire situation terribly and hurt you in the process. But then the immaturity and male pride kicked in and convinced me that I was the victim," Sam laughed humorlessly. He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. "Honestly…we were both victims of my horrible decision making."

Mercedes burst out in a bubbly laugh, and he couldn't help but smile. "You can say that again," she said, eyes sparkling with mirth before getting suddenly serious. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For explaining. It probably wasn't easy for you, but I needed to hear what was going on in your head. Because the things that I told myself you were thinking were much worse," she let out a relieved chuckle. "But why now? How come you didn't tell me this yesterday when you came to find me?"

"Puck said something to me yesterday that I can't get out of my head. Basically, he told me that it doesn't matter that you've begun to forgive me if I don't forgive myself, and that it could end up hurting the both of us." Sam ran his hand anxiously through his hair and forced himself to meet her wide, dark eyes. "So I'm working on that, because I don't want to punish myself, but most of all I don't want to hurt you again. Ever."

They were silent together for a while. Mercedes brought his hand to her lips and in a familiar gesture, pressed a kiss to the palm, and then the back of it before smiling up at him. "You have a good heart, Sammy. On some level, I've always known that you'd never intentionally hurt me – even then. People with good hearts don't do that." The soft, loving smile she gave him made him melt. "Be gentle with yourself."

Sam's heart beat wildly in his chest as she snuggled back against him. He placed a kiss on the top of her head and they enjoyed the feel of their bodies together and the warmth of the sunlight.

* * *

><p>"<em>Ugh<em>, they're so sickeningly sweet. It's_ gross_."

"_San_! Be nice. They need to cuddle! Cuddling is how your souls bond."

Mercedes stirred, waking from her unexpected nap and smiling at an adorably sleeping Sam before turning to give Brittany a smile and Santana a glare. "_Shut up._"

Santana sucked her teeth. "Girl, please. He could sleep through the apocalypse, you're the light sleeper."

She narrowed her eyes, indignant. "If you _knew_ that…_why_ would you come up here and make noise?"

"_Because_ it's almost dinner time, and I figured he'd rather get woken up with kisses from you than a slap upside his head from me," Santana smirked.

"_How considerate_," Mercedes quipped dryly.

"Isn't she?" Brittany beamed proudly at her girlfriend. "We've been working on it," she admitted, giving Santana a kiss.

"Just be in the dining room in an hour," the blushing Latina mumbled, leading her girlfriend down the stairs.

Mercedes laughed softly to herself. Those two were made for each other, there was no mistaking it. Turning to her slumbering not-boyfriend, she admired the way the golden light of the early evening played over his hair and skin, illuminating his rugged features. Brushing the hair back from his forehead, she called his name softly until he began to stir. Leaning up, she gave him a gentle kiss and felt him smile against her lips before kissing her back.

"You know," Sam rumbled, his voice rough from sleep, "I could get used to this whole you-waking-up-first thing."

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><p><strong>I've been ending on fluff lately instead of having angsty cliffhangers...that might change. *evil laughter*<strong>

**We also may or may not find out who Rachel's baby daddy is next chapter. Guess in the reviews and I'll list everyone who is correct in the update. A few of you have guessed already and it's so interesting to see the theories you have, they're super creative!**

**As always, thanks for reading.**

**-Em**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: on first page**

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry to make you wait so long for this update. I haven't been feeling too well, but I'm starting to feel better. Coming back to all of these reviews seriously made my night, you guys are awesome. And those who PM'ed me, I haven't forgotten you! I'll get to them ASAP. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this update, I'm using it to balance out all the fluff I've found myself writing lately, haha.**

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><p>Sitting cuddled up to Sam with her legs in his lap, Mercedes felt more like herself than she had in months. Just being around him unlocked that little part of her that she kept hidden away for so long. She felt relaxed and in her element in a way that she forgot was possible. They had a little over an hour until dinner, and they couldn't think of a better way to spend it than snuggled up with each other. But even as she sank deeper into his embrace, she couldn't ignore the nagging ache in her heart.<p>

Mercedes tightened her hold around his waist and let the rhythmic beating of Sam's heart underneath her ear soothe her. As much as she wanted to focus on the here and now of this moment with Sam, she couldn't stop thinking about Rachel and everything that went down during brunch. Rachel was a mess, that was for sure, but she was probably hurting something awful. Even if her behavior earlier that day was completely out of line, Mercedes couldn't help but think that she made a scene out of desperation; it couldn't be easy to be in her position, even if she only had herself to blame.

As if sensing her thoughts, Sam gave her a supportive squeeze with the arm he had wrapped around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. All it took was one look up at him before his 'concerned boyfriend' expression surfaced.

"What? What's wrong?"

"It's Rachel," Mercedes admitted with a sigh, "I can't help but feel bad for her, you know?"

She felt him tense in her arms. "She brought it on herself, Mercy," Sam said, quietly.

"I'm not denying that. Rachel's an absolute mess, and she 's wrong for what she did. But she's also pregnant and scared, Sam."

He cupped her cheek and his expression softened considerably. "You're worried."

"Of course I am! Even when she's in a good place, she's not the most levelheaded person. But now, with all she's going through, and the fact that she's pregnant…it can't be healthy."

"No, definitely not," Sam murmured.

"I'm gonna go see her after dinner." His eyes snapped to hers.

"I'm coming with you-"

"No-"

"You can't-"

"_Sam_. I love that you want to be supportive, but I know Rachel, and if you come she's not going to listen to a word I have to say because of the way you defended Finn this morning." Mercedes felt him exhale and sink back into the couch.

"At least take Kurt or Blaine with you," he conceded.

She smiled at him. "That's a good idea. I'll ask them."

They were quiet for a bit, just focusing on feeling of each other's touch. Mercedes missed the warmth and roughness of his hands; she loved the way the heat of his palm on her hip radiated through the fabric of her dress. They often sat in silence like this when they were together, saying everything that needed to be said through the brush of fingertips and lips over a shoulder, chest, or cheek.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Mercedes that threatened to ruin the moment. She wrestled with herself for a minute before deciding to voice her concerns.

"Sammy…" she began gently, her voice breaking.

"I know." She pulled back from him and narrowed her eyes. Sam laughed and rolled his eyes. "You think I haven't been thinking about the fact that this could be our last night together for a while?"

Mercedes collapsed back against his chest and shook her head vigorously "_La la la la, I can't hear you…_"

"As if you weren't about to bring it up yourself," Sam scoffed, nudging her playfully.

"It's different when you say it though," she admitted, "it's more real…and kind of scary."

Mercedes knew that rebuilding her relationship with Sam wasn't going to be easy, especially given the distance that was inevitable once they returned home. She wasn't a fan of the distance when their relationship was strong and they got to see each other practically every weekend; she didn't even want to think about how difficult the road ahead of them might prove to be. Most of all Mercedes wasn't ready to go right back to missing him so soon after reconnecting.

"I know baby, I know," he mumbled against her hair, pressing a kiss to her head. "But maybe a little time apart will be good for us. We've made a lot of progress, but it can't hurt to have some time to ourselves to process everything, just get a little perspective, you know?"

"When did you get to be so rational?"

Sam laughed, the sound vibrating throughout his chest and against Mercedes' cheek. "I'm all grown up now, scout's honor," he declared, holding up the two-fingered salute.

Mercedes couldn't help but kiss him after looking up to see his wide-eyed, earnest face. He laughed against her lips briefly before she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him deeper into a kiss that was nothing to laugh about. A few lip bite, gasp, and moan filled minutes later, she couldn't help the smile of satisfaction that played across her lips at his dazed expression.

"So you're _sure_ you can't just come to New York with me for a week or two…or a thousand…"

"Down, boy," Mercedes giggled.

"Tell that to my crotch…"

"Sam!"

"What?" Sam grinned unapologetically as she rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, I'll stop. On a slightly more serious note, what's your schedule like?"

"It's flexible-ish. I have to be in the studio for the next couple of weeks but then I have some time off. And I play shows here and there, but that shouldn't be a problem."

Sam visibly brightened at her answer. "I should have some time in a couple of weeks too. How about I fly out and you can give me a tour of the Windy City?"

"Oh, I think you know plenty about that Windy City," she teased, rolling her hips into his.

"You better stop that unless you plan on skipping dinner," he rumbled, squeezing her hips.

"Don't give me any ideas, Sam," she giggled. "Wait! I just remembered I have a thing with Quinn in a couple of weeks." She bit her lip as she made apologetic puppy eyes at him. "Can you still come the next weekend?"

"Of _course_ you have something planned with Quinn…"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Look, I know that you two are best friends, and that you've been through a lot together, I get that. I just find it super _coincidental_ that she scheduled something with you on the first weekend that we're both free."

Mercedes couldn't believe what she was hearing; she pulled out of his embrace and sat next to him on the couch.

"Don't do that, Mercy, come here," he said, reaching for her. She swatted his arm away.

"What exactly are you _trying_ to say?"

"I'm _saying_ that I think she hates me and that she has an agenda – namely making sure that you'll hate me too," he said mumbled, suddenly surly.

"Are you kidding me, Sam? You _know_ how Quinn is; she's super protective and more than a little territorial. You _did_ hurt me, and even though I'm glad we're moving past that, she probably can't help but be a little uncomfortable that we are."

Sam put his hands up in surrender. "Fine, whatever. I just hope she isn't trying to sabotage your opinion of me."

"Why would you say something like that? Are you- are you _jealous_ of _Quinn_?" Mercedes couldn't believe the way he was acting.

"I'm not jealous. But would it be crazy if I were? She was attached to you all morning and shooting me these little '_I won_' looks. I know how much her opinion means to you, and she can be really persuasive. Trust me, I know."

Mercedes stiffened. "_You think I'd let Quinn dictate who I date,_" she stated slowly, dangerously.

"She has a lot more influence over you than you think, Mercedes."

Mercedes felt like she'd been slapped. Did he really think that she was that spineless? This wasn't high school, and Quinn wasn't some head-bitch-in-charge Cheerio, they were two adults in a healthy friendship.

"For your information," she said coldly as she stood, "She told me this morning that she was _happy_ we've reconnected, and that as long as we take it slow we should be alright. But yeah, she's totally trying to come between us."

"Mercy-"

"Save it, Sam," she said, making her way to the stairs, "I'll see you at dinner."

* * *

><p>Sam watched helplessly as Mercedes stormed down the stairs and back into the house. He wasn't sure whether he should go after her or give her time to cool off. What he was sure of, however, was that he made a complete ass of himself by jumping to conclusions. <em>Good going, asshat<em>, he chastised himself.

With a sigh he got up and went down the stairs to find Mercedes and apologize to her when he caught something in his peripheral vision. It was Quinn, pacing back and forth in the garden talking quite animatedly on her phone. Changing his mind, he headed in her direction. He'd still apologize to Mercedes, but after dinner. Right now, however, he wanted some answers.

He was a few yards away from her when she noticed him. Quinn nodded her acknowledgement in his direction and gave him the 'just a minute' gesture. Sam sat on one of the many stone benches when his phone buzzed; he ignored it and watched her wrap up her conversation. It looked to be an intense exchange; her face was flushed, but she didn't seem angry or annoyed. She was too far away for him to catch much of her end, and quite honestly he wasn't that interested.

Quinn ended the call and walked up to him, tilting her head as if to say 'What now?' as she slipped her phone into the pocket of her dress.

"We need to talk," Sam said, bluntly. He gestured for her to sit next to him.

"About…" Quinn trailed off, tucking the skirt of her dress under her primly before taking a seat.

"Well, Mercedes and I just had an argument-"

Her eyes cut to his so sharply that it almost made him wince. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she'll be fine, I think…"

"What did you do this time, Evans?" Quinn arched her brow in that haughty manner that was her signature as she crossed her legs.

"Talk about you."

She was quiet for a moment, almost taken aback. "What did you say?"

"We were making plans to see each other again, and it just so happened that she had plans with you on the first weekend that we're both free…and I kind of made a big deal about it. Not just because I wanted to see her, but because I'm pretty much convinced that you hate me and you want her to hate me too."

He studied her face, waiting to see how she'd react. She didn't look surprised.

"I'll be honest with you. She is my friend, my _best_ friend, and I have to respect her feelings and desires. But I'm more than a little uncomfortable about the fact that she's forgiven you for 24 months of fuckery in 48 hours. She may have forgiven you, Sam, but I haven't." Quinn fixed him with a pointed look. She was direct, he had to give her that.

"I can live with that," he stated simply, challenging her gaze.

"Good. So you'll understand that if I've been a little possessive, it's only because I feel the need to protect her." A faint smirk appeared on her lips. "Of course it doesn't hurt that I got to see you all riled up about it."

Sam's jaw clenched involuntarily, and he checked himself before she got any satisfaction from a big reaction. "She's not a toy, _Quinn_," he said roughly.

Her eyes narrowed into her patented bone-chilling glare. "You don't need to tell me that. _I'm_ not the one who didn't consider her feelings, _Sam_."

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Sam understood that what he did was wrong, but it didn't mean that he was okay with constantly being reminded of it; he never let himself forget.

"Look, I know you're not my biggest fan, and I know that I've messed up, but don't try and make it seem like I don't care for her. I love Mercedes."

Quinn's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I get that. Trust me, if I didn't think you were genuine we wouldn't even be having this conversation. It's just that Mercy has always been super cautious about _everything_, you know?"

He nodded - it was true. At times she over-analyzed things to the point of being unnecessarily stressed, it was something they tried to work on together.

"The thing is she's the exact opposite with you, and she can't even help it. On one hand, I actually love that about you two. She can just let herself _feel_ with you, really let you in, and it's easy. On the other hand that blinds her to the dangers of being in this kind of relationship…"

"And what kind of relationship is _that_?" Sam asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep his tone neutral.

"Don't get all huffy on me, you know what I mean," Quinn scoffed. "It's the kind where trust has been decimated and passion is rampant. It doesn't mean that you guys don't have a shot at something great," she admitted, reluctantly, "but it does mean that like it or not you carry the responsibility of making sure that things go at an appropriate pace."

"Because I'm the one thing she can't really control how she feels about…" Sam murmured, taking in this new insight into his not-quite-girlfriend.

"Now you're learning, blondie," Quinn smiled.

It had never occurred to him, but it made sense when he thought about it. If there was one thing that Mercedes hated, it was being vulnerable. Not being in control tended to make her panic at times. Sam thought back to how many times she put herself out there that weekend and just _felt_: that night after the pool game, and in the gazebo, and at the reception, and that night when they slept together. He realized then both how brave she'd been and how deeply she must love him.

That settled it; he needed to find her. But not before he cleared up the little nagging thought that'd been bothering him all day.

"So…this is awkward…but I kind of have to know, so don't hate me. You don't…have _feelings_ for Mercedes, do you?" As soon as he managed to ask the question, fumbling over his words, he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment. Sam was surprised to hear Quinn giggling.

"To be honest, I care about her very much. Mercedes understands me like no one else does, and she's always been there for me, even when no one else – including my parents – was. Our bond is…deep, and really complicated. I love her like I've loved no one else.

"But if you're asking whether or not I have romantic feelings for her, the answer is no. Mercy is mine, and I am hers, in a way that we are no one else's – even you and Noah," she smiled. "But Noah is the love of my life, and I think it's safe to say that you are hers. I'm just a little touchy-feely. But can you blame me? Your woman's a snuggle goddess."

Quinn erupted in a genuine laugh from deep in her belly; it was one that Sam never had the pleasure of hearing before. He thought it was beautiful.

"That she is. But she's not mine…not yet. Especially after what just happened."

She simply shook her head in disbelief. "You still don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"Unless you _severely_ fuck this up – and trust that my threat still stands if you do – you will always belong to each other. Even if, god forbid, things don't work out…she'll always be your 'Mercy' and you'll always be her 'Sammy' – it's sickeningly tragic, really," she admitted with a playful grin.

"Gee, _thanks_."

"You're very welcome." Quinn rose from the bench and smoothed down her dress. "Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't hate you, you know. I'm not too happy with you right now, for obvious reasons, but I don't hate you. Something tells me that you're going to be in Mercedes' life for a long time, and that means you'll be an important part of my life too. I'd like it if we could eventually be closer. You know, when I'm a little happier with you," she smiled, sweetly.

"I'd like that," Sam replied. And he meant it. He now saw what Mercy used to tell him about Quinn having turned over a new leaf. She was still tough as nails and a little devious, but she used her powers for good nowadays.

"Good. See you in a bit, then. Good luck with that conversation." With that, she headed back towards the house.

Sam sat for a few more minutes, just letting their conversation marinate when his phone buzzed for a second time. Taking it out of his pocket he saw that he had two new texts, one from Mike, and one from Mercedes. He took a deep breath and opened the one from Mercedes first. "_Don't bother looking for me, I'm off to visit Rachel w/ Kurt," _it read. With a deep sigh, he went to open Mike's message.

* * *

><p>Mercedes strode through the halls and up the staircase to her room. She was livid; she didn't understand where this sudden hangup about Quinn came from. When they were together he didn't care that they were close; hell the three of them even hung out from time to time. What made him think he could get all touchy about it now? And she couldn't even begin to understand why he thought Quinn could tell her who to date. The whole thing was confusing and upsetting, and she was having none of it.<p>

Her phone buzzed and she fished it out of her purse. It was a text from Mike saying that they decided to turn dinner into a cookout once it cooled off a bit; they sent people for supplies and pushed it to 8pm, and there were snacks out in the parlor if anyone was hungry.

Since that gave her at least a solid two hours, Mercedes decided now would be as good a time as any to visit Rachel. Dialing her number, she prayed that she hadn't left just yet. Rachel finally answered on the sixth ring.

"Yes."

_Well damn, alright then._ "Hey Rach, would it be okay if I stopped by before you left? I didn't really get a chance to see you all weekend-"

"Fine."

"Do you mind texting me the address so I can-"

"Kurt knows."

"Great, see you in a few," Mercedes managed to get out before she heard the click on the other end of the line. She supposed she should be happy Rachel was open to seeing her, though one would think Mercedes was the one being done a favor and not the other way around. She called Kurt and explained her plans, asking him to meet her out front. Five minutes later they were in the car and on the way to Rachel's hotel.

It was about a fifteen minute ride, during which she fired off a quick text to Sam letting him know where she was – no doubt he'd be trying to look for her to talk things out. When they arrived, they texted her asking what her room number was, and she replied that it was 1012, two doors to the right of the elevator. Kurt and Mercedes headed up to the tenth floor in a tense silence. On the ride over they agreed to avoid being too harsh at the beginning so that she'd still be open to what they had to say.

She knocked on the door, and a few moments later Rachel swung it open, turning to head back into the room without so much as glancing at them. Mercedes couldn't believe her eyes when she stepped into the room and got a good look at Rachel. The woman was past disheveled: her hair was a tangled mess, and she had the ghost of old makeup smeared around her eyes. She sat in the corner of the room, clutching the silk robe she wore tightly as she smoked a cigarette.

Kurt realized what was going on about half a second before Mercedes and sprang into action, snatching the cigarette from Rachel's fingers and heading out to the balcony to stomp it out. Rachel shrugged and pulled a pack from the pocket of her robe. All plans of being gentle with her flew out the window.

"Rachel, what is that? Are you out of your damn mind?" Mercedes yelled at her friend, snatching the pack of cigarettes from her hands.

"Leave me the fuck alone," she grunted, annoyed.

Kurt entered the room, closing the sliding glass door to the balcony and leaning against it, rubbing his temples as if attempting to ward off an inevitable headache.

"Rachel, I'm not sure why it is so difficult for you to understand that smoking is absolutely terrible for the _baby_ you have growing in your _stomach_, but I was _sure_ that you would have known that it can do irreparable damage to your vocal chords. What the hell?"

"It doesn't matter. None of this matters."

"_It doesn't-_ what…'Cede handle this because I _cannot_ deal right now," Kurt muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands.

Mercedes studied Rachel for a moment. The brunette looked back at her, unblinkingly, with what she guessed was supposed to be defiance. But Mercedes knew her too well for all of that, and she sensed the fear and defeat that pierced the cloud of indifference Rachel tried to summon. She sat across from her and took her hand, squeezing it gently. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, just looking at each other before Rachel's face slowly crumpled and her shoulders shook with the force of her silent sobs.

The minute she broke down, Kurt sat on the arm of her chair and began to rub her back as Mercedes took both of her hands in hers and let her cry for some time. The pair sat on the bed and pulled Rachel between them, wrapping her up tight as the sobs wracked her small frame. When she began to calm down, Kurt got up and headed towards the bathroom and Rachel leaned into Mercedes. He came back with baby wipes and her hairbrush, and wordlessly wiped her face of the residual make-up and tearstains before sitting behind her and gently brushing the tangles from her hair.

"Rachel," she began softly, "look at me." When she didn't respond, Mercedes repeated herself. Rachel looked up at her as fresh tears fell from her eyes. "I need to tell you a few things, and I need to know that you're going to listen. Because if you're not, we're not going to waste any more of our time here."

"I'm listening," the girl managed to croak.

"Good. Now let me start by saying that I don't ever want to hear the words 'It doesn't matter' come out of your mouth again. You have an incredible talent, and an ego to match – where'd that go?" Rachel let out a strangled chuckle.

"You mean I was a raging bitch – and don't deny it, it's true. I spent all of high school determined to make myself a shining star. But instead of focusing on making my light shine brighter, I worked on dimming everyone else's so that mine would be brighter by comparison," she admitted, bitterly.

Mercedes gaped at Rachel, and saw that Kurt had stopped mid brush stroke in shock.

"The fact that you realize that…that's a big step, Rach," Kurt managed to say, "a _huge _step."

"It is," acknowledged Mercedes. "What made you think like that, that nothing matters?"

"I'm alone, Mercedes."

"Are you kidding me?" Kurt's nostrils flared with indignation. "You are the _farthest_ thing from alone. If you weren't too busy crashing weddings and alienating people, you'd realize that you practically have an army of people who are there for you-" He cut off his rant when he saw Mercedes signaling him that he'd gone a bit overboard.

"We are a family," she continued, "we never stopped supporting you, even when your crazy was acting up. To be perfectly honest, if you hadn't lied to Finn, he might even have been there for you, eventually. I get that this is a hard time for you, Rachel, but what won't help is you wallowing in self pity and rewriting history talkin' about 'no one is there for you' and other nonsense. Understand?"

A thoroughly chastised Rachel could only nod her head in response. The three sat in silence for a few minutes until Rachel turned to Kurt.

"Kurt, would you mind if I talked to Mercedes alone for a moment?"

Mercedes was a little surprised at her request. They were friends, of course, but she'd always felt that it was only because of Kurt. Rachel was Kurt's friend, and she was Kurt's friend, and then they kind of became friends that way. She figured that if for some reason Kurt were taken out of the equation, they wouldn't be nearly as close.

Kurt must have shared her thoughts on their dynamic, because he also looked a bit stunned before granting her request. He told Mercedes he'd wait for her in the lobby, and exited the room. Mercedes wasn't sure what it could possibly be that Rachel felt more comfortable discussing with _her_ than she would Kurt, but she was all ears.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I wanted Kurt out of the room…"

"A little bit, yeah…"

Rachel gulped, visibly tense. "I know that we're not incredibly close, and that I've hurt you in the past, but of all people _you_ made the effort to come out here and see me, so I'm trusting you with this."

"With wha-"

"Let me finish," Rachel said, cutting her off. "It's just that if I don't get this out now, I might lose my nerve, and if I don't tell someone I'm afraid of what the guilt would make me do," she said, her voice shaking, tears in her eyes."

Mercedes took a deep breath, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure what Rachel was about to say, but she was certain she wasn't going to want to hear it.

Rachel stood up and began to nervously pace the narrow walkway between the bed and the balcony door, her words spilling out in a wavering voice.

"I never meant to hurt him, or anyone. It's just…he was slipping away from me, you know? And at first I thought it was because we outgrew each other. Because people do that, right? We were just too different; he thought my interests were pretentious and I thought his were pedestrian. And we weren't having sex – which was my doing – but then we did and it was terrible and disconnected…and then I broke it off."

Her words came faster and faster, and her voice got louder and more frantic.

"But then I was alone. I thought I had all of these friends in the theater scene, but they were acquaintances at best, most of them were just contacts. No one cared about you by the time their cocktail glass was drained and the tab paid. And I realized Finn was all I had; he was my support and my biggest fan and I broke his heart.

"I thought he'd never come back if I asked him, we'd done the break-up-make-up thing way too many times. But he's a good man, so good, such a good heart…and I knew someone who could doctor up the documents so-" Rachel let out a choked sob, unable to continue.

Mercedes felt sick to her stomach. She didn't want to hear any more, she didn't think she could be responsible with this information.

"So I had them made but I forgot that we hadn't had sex in a while so the date...it was wrong, and Finn thought I slept with someone else-"

"_Stop!_" Mercedes yelled, grabbing her purse and starting towards the door. She was nauseous and her entire body was shaking. Rachel flew past her in a blur and blocked the door.

"You can't tell him! It was the only way, don't you see? It would have been okay, not all pregnancies stick, so I would have just pretended it-"

"You would have pretended you had a _miscarriage_? Do you not see how _sick_ that is, Rachel?" Mercedes felt her legs wobble beneath her; she was almost limp with rage.

"It was the only way! And we would have had a family _eventuall_-"

"_Move. Now,_" she demanded, icily. Rachel stepped back and let her through the door, closing it behind her.

Mercedes made it around the corner and a few steps into the adjoining hall before collapsing against the wall, the burden of unwanted knowledge heavy on her heart, and fresh tears on her cheeks.

* * *

><p><strong>Angsty enough for you? No? <em>More <em>angst you say...*cackles***

**I know most of you expected Jessie St. Jackass to be the father, but I couldn't just go writing the obvious, ha. Also, many of you were super scared I was going to turn this into a Quinncedes or Quamcedes relationship fic. I got quite a few reviews/pm's that were either excited/or anxious about it. But this is tagged as Sam E. and Mercedes J. and I never changed that :) Making you guys panic a bit was fun, though.**

**Next update includes the talk, the (hilarious) cookout scene, and Sam and Mercedes' last night in Napa...**

**As always, I'd love to hear what you think!**

**-Em**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer on first page**

**A/N: Hey, it's been a while. I missed you guys too :) The drama continues:**

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><p>"The Grill Master is at work ladies and gents, and you're very, <em>very<em> welcome." Puck tossed a pair of tongs in the air, spinning around and catching them in his opposite hand before bowing with an obnoxious wink.

"Whatever, man. Your grilling skills would be nothing without my seasoning. It's all about the _flava_, feel me?" Artie put his hand up to silence Puck's retort. "Don't even start, or I'll be rolling away to get an ice cold beer faster than you can blink."

The "Grill Master" glared but ultimately turned back to his steaks. "Some salt and pepper and you think you're the shit…"

"_Excuse me_?"

"Nothing…"

"That's what I _thought_," Artie snapped, turning back to season and skewer various meat and veggies.

Sam, Brittany, Santana, Blaine, and Quinn snickered into their drinks. The pair had been at it for over an hour. After Frederick dropped off the supplies for dinner, Artie and Puck incited a small war when they simultaneously called Grill Master dibs.

"_You? Grilling? I have a pool cleaning business. Pools and barbeque go together like pb&j dude, I got this."_

"_Look, just because your Neanderthal ass discovered fire doesn't mean you know how to make anything taste good. I'm hungry for food, not shoe leather."_

"_I know my spices!"_

"_Puck, you wouldn't know the difference between cumin and paprika if I gave you a 45 minute lecture. And let's be real, the only meat you're even close to qualified to handle is in your pants."_

After that fatal blow, they agreed to let Artie work his magic on the spice rub while Puck got to flip things so his ego wasn't too shattered. Once he got a taste of the famous Abrams family bbq rub, he was singing his smug partner's praises.

Grateful as he was for the beginnings of dinner and a show, Sam couldn't help but be anxious for Mercedes to return before they started eating. He wanted to squash whatever this tension was between them so they could enjoy what was left of their time together. Checking his cell for messages for what must have been the twentieth time, he sighed in frustration and let himself be drawn back into conversation.

"Oh yeah, _definitely_ the game room! With that big screen and Tina's surprisingly large collection of… umm… _DVD's…_"

"Wait, _what_?" Sam took in Blaine's red face, and the girls' amused expressions and his confusion only grew.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Trouty? Mike and Tina move dinner to a later time, yet their families are gone and they haven't been seen since they came back from seeing them off _hours_ ago, and you haven't connected the dots?" She huffed a defeated sigh when all she got was Sam's head cocked to the side with question marks in his eyes.

"They're fucking, Sam," came Quinn's abrupt explanation, "Mike and Tina are undoubtedly christening every horizontal surface in that villa, and probably some of the vertical ones." She paused to take a sip of her brew when her eyes grew wide. Holding up a hand to get the group's attention she motioned for them to be silent and faintly, from the other side of the gardens…

"_Mmmmike, oh fuck!_"

"And the grounds as well!" Quinn bit back a laugh and held up her glass in the unseen couple's direction. "_Mazel Tov_!" she hollered, cupping her hand around her mouth. Indistinctly shouted words, most likely expletives, could just barely be heard from far away. The group, doubled over with laughter, didn't hear anyone approaching.

"Wanna fill us in on what it is that's so funny?"

Sam looked up to see Kurt and a softly smiling Mercedes. He immediately stopped laughing when he saw her eyes; they were puffy and slightly red, like she'd been crying. She sat on the picnic bench, scooting close to him, and Kurt slid in across from her, next to his boyfriend. The rest of the table immediately began to fill them in on what just went down, but all he could do was stare at her as she chuckled at the story. She looked exhausted.

"Sammy?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and hoped his face didn't look too surprised. He wasn't expecting her to call him that; then again he wasn't expecting her to want to talk to him, period. "Babe, about earlier…I'm sorry-"

She cut him off with a small shake of her head. "We're good." Mercedes grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, as if sensing his confusion. "Let's just say I came back from an exercise in perspective."

Sam nodded and brought their joined hands to his mouth, kissing her knuckles, and melting a bit when she settled against him with her head on his shoulder. He had so many questions, about them of course, but mostly why she seemed so shook and tired. Just as he opened his mouth to get a few answers, the couple of the moment arrived.

"Well look who decided to show up!" Santana exclaimed, looking like the cat that caught the canary. "Though I suppose when two people share as much _love_ as you do, they get pretty hungry…"

"_Satan_," Mercedes admonished her friend, "leave them alone! As if today hasn't been eventful enough for them…" she threw a wink Tina's way and patted the empty bench beside her.

The red-faced newlyweds took their places beside Mercedes and decided that if laughs were to be had, they might as well join in. Sam couldn't resist giving Mike what he thought was a covert fist bump behind their ladies' backs, but it didn't exactly go unnoticed – if the matching smacks upside their heads were any indication.

Artie and Puck came over with platters of grilled meats, some salads and some fresh baked rolls and placed the spread on the picnic table with a flourish. Everyone cheered and applauded the chefs as they bowed, graciously.

Artie raised his pint towards the newlyweds. "I just wanna say that I'm happy we had an opportunity to pause our busy lives and spend some quality time together, and I'm even happier that the reason we came together was to help these two celebrate their love." Everyone toasted and cheered. "Alright everyone, dig in! Grab a thigh or breast, lord knows Mike already did…"

"Hey!"

* * *

><p>Mercedes shifted the warm, covered plate to one hand and knocked carefully on the door with the hand that held a cold beer.<p>

"Who is it?"

"Finn? It's Mercedes. I brought you something to eat. And I figured we could talk, if you wanted." She shifted uneasily for a few beats. "Or I could just leave this out here for you, I didn't want to impose-"

The door swung open, and Finn filled the frame looking pretty rough; there were puffy bags under his eyes, he was fairly pale, and he had an air of defeat about him. Mercedes immediately wished she had checked on him sooner instead of going to see Rachel. Now she was stuck with a truth that she could hardly bear, face to face with the one person to whom she couldn't tell it – and who also happened to be the one that needed to hear it the most.

"Nah, it's fine. Come in, Mercy." He held the door open for her and stepped aside so that she could enter. "Thanks for bringing me some dinner, you didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to. If I had no other clue that something wasn't right, you not being at dinner would have tipped me off." He cracked a small smile at that, and she couldn't help but notice it didn't reach his eyes. Fifteen minutes into dinner, she realized that Finn wasn't there. When she asked them why, the table went silent for a moment before Puck gave her a meaningful look and said he was tired and wanted a nap. She'd known Finn since kindergarten and he had never skipped a meal, not once.

She placed the plate and bottle on the little desk across from the bed and motioned for him to tuck in. He picked at the plate, managing a few bites and a swig of beer before turning to offer her some. Never in his life had Finn Hudson shared food, it was to the point where there was a running joke that when it came time to feed his bride a piece of wedding cake, he'd end up feeding himself. It may seem silly to some, but this made Mercedes quite a bit more worried than she had been a few minutes ago.

"No thanks, I already ate. Artie and Puck outdid themselves, huh? Considering how competitive they were getting around that grill, you would've thought we'd end up with little hockey pucks of meat," Mercedes giggled. Finn managed a halfhearted chuckle that ended abruptly with an emotional swallow that made Mercedes want to hug him and slap Rachel at the same time.

"Apparently I don't have much of an appetite," he muttered.

"Finn..."

"The world must be coming to an end, huh?"

"_Finn_."

He abandoned his food and came to sit next to her on the bed. Finn may be somewhat of a giant, but in that moment she would have sworn that he was the smallest, most fragile thing she'd laid her eyes on. He looked up at her, his brown eyes glassy.

"It feels like _my_ world is ending, anyway."

Any strength she had was dissolved with that broken admission. Mercedes held him while he cried, as much to hide her own tears as to comfort him. While she didn't know the depth of his pain, she could certainly relate. When Sam left her that winter day, it was as if her world collapsed around her and not only did she feel as if she couldn't breathe, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

And here she was, sitting with information that would both twist the knife in her friend's emotional wound and give him closure, and she did not know what to do. As messed up of an individual as Rachel was, she clearly needed help – she can't have been right in the head. And she _did_ technically promise her she wouldn't say anything, but that was before she told her, and there was no way she could guess how fucked up the situation would end up being.

"You know what's probably the most messed up part of this whole thing?"

Mercedes jumped and panicked, wondering if she made the mistake of thinking out loud. She took his hand and squeezed it as he began to compose himself. "No, what?"

"I still love her," he said quietly, almost as if he couldn't believe himself. "After everything she's put me through, I'm sad not just for me or our relationship, but her." He shook his head. "It's fucked up."

"It sure is," she mumbled. Mercedes was at war with herself; should she break her promise to Rachel and tell him? Would telling him help or hurt at this point? What if later on he found out she knew and held out on him, how would that affect their friendship?

Finn blinked a few times before standing up to stretch his tall frame and physically shake himself out of his funk. When he turned to look at her, he seemed more present and alert – like he was actually looking at her instead of passively acknowledging her presence. "Mercedes?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks. I could-"

"Don't thank me," she blurted out harshly. _If you only knew…_

"What? Why?" He was quite taken aback.

"I…I just mean that we're friends, and we have been for practically our entire lives. It's a given that I'd be there for you, you know?"

"Oh, well I still want to thank you, all of you guys really…especially Sam and Puck, they've been so great. Oh and Mike and Tina for putting up with this bullshit." His face reddened. "They really didn't need this, but they've been so cool about it."

"You know they know it wasn't your fault. Rachel is how she is," she waved it off, "it's fine. Now what do you say we head out and catch the tail end of that barbecue?"

His face brightened up. "Sounds good, actually."

"Great. Just…" she hesitated for a moment, "promise me you'll call Rachel soon. I have a feeling that there's more to this story than she's letting on."

"What do you mean?" He narrowed his eyes a bit, as if the tiniest bit suspicious and her heart began to beat wildly.

"I just mean that it's Rachel, and as complicated as the situation is, you should give yourself some time and then get a clearer picture of everything that happened - for closure's sake," Mercedes explained, praying he'd let it go.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. You've always been the level-headed one," he smiled, passing her and heading out the door. "You coming?"

"Yeah, I just have to make a call, I'll meet you outside." He nodded and headed down the hall. Once he was out of earshot, she slid down the wall and sat down, pulling out her phone and hitting the most recently dialed contact, listening anxiously to the ringing until the other person picked up.

"_Mercedes_, look I'm sorry I put all of that on you-"

"Save it. Out of respect for your clearly less than healthy mental state, my promise to you, and whatever friendship we used to have I didn't tell him. He is broken up about this charade and he doesn't even know the worst part. I feel like a shit friend to hold him while he cried and-"

"He cried?" Rachel asked, quietly.

"_Yes_, he cried. You two have been together since high school, and then you pulled some shit like this – he's human, of course he cried. And I knew and I couldn't say a thing. I told him to take some time to cool off and then call you. If he doesn't call you in a week, you call him or go to him and you tell him. Because I swear to god Rachel, if you don't tell him in two week's time, I sure as hell will."

She hung up, her entire body shaking from the intensity of the confrontation. Mercedes closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, breathing slowly and deeply in order to steady her nerves. After a few minutes, she got up, brushed off her dress, and headed towards garden. If Finn could suck it up enough to enjoy this last night with their friends, so could she.

* * *

><p>The rest of the cookout went off without a hitch, and Sam was relieved to see that even though Mercedes still looked tired, she seemed to be enjoying herself. As the meal was winding down, he decided that enough was enough. Grabbing a half bottle of wine and two glasses, he nudged Mercedes and gestured for her to follow him, hoots and wolf whistles from the peanut gallery be damned. He lead her up to the terrace where they had napped and argued earlier – he knew that returning to the scene of the crime, as it were, probably wasn't romantic. But the view and the fact that it faced the slowly setting sun in the western sky were, so he bet on that.<p>

Sam got comfortable and watched as she poured them both a glass before accepting his and taking a sip. They were quiet for a few minutes, sipping and staring at nothing in particular, letting themselves and their thoughts settle. He was just beginning to get his thoughts together when she broke the silence.

"I know we need to talk about us, and I want to, and we will. But first I need to say something, I just need to get it out. I need you to promise me you won't ask me for details. I'll tell you more when I can, okay?"

His gaze snapped to her face and he frowned, slightly. "Okay, I promise."

She turned and faced him. "Rachel Berry should be fucking institutionalized, and I'm not exaggerating in any way shape or form. She needs help."

"Why-"

"I can't say, Sam. And I know I'm probably freaking you out a bit, but I need you to promise me one more thing, and this is even more important."

He was thoroughly alarmed. Had Rachel done or said something to hurt Mercedes? Or herself? He tried to soothe himself and steady his thumping heart by reminding himself that his girl was more than capable of taking care of herself. "Okay, what is it?"

"This…thing will come out soon. And if I know Rachel, it'll probably also come out that I knew first. When that happens, you need to tell Finn that I wanted to tell him."

Sam was confused and a little freaked – what the hell happened at that hotel? "Mercy, what-"

"_I can't_. It's just important, okay?" He was taken aback by how intense her gaze was, her big brown eyes imploring him not to press for more information. "He will need to know, and he might not want to talk to me at that point."

"I promise."

"Good." Sam watched as she took a deep sip from her glass and closed her eyes tightly for a moment. When she opened them, she offered him a smile and took his hand, which made him smile in turn. "Now, about us."

"What about us?"

"Well, for starters, I'm gonna get Quinn to push our spa weekend back. We'll have time to get scrubbed and wrapped next month. She is very important to me, but so are you."

Sam was pleasantly surprised. He never wanted to put her in a position to choose between her best friend and him, not only because it wasn't fair to her, but because he was pretty sure he wouldn't win. When it came to Quinn, he couldn't win for losing; it'd been that way since high school.

"What made you change your mind?" The expression that came over her face almost made him regret asking – she became rather serious.

"If we're going to do this," she squeezed his hand, "again, then we're going to have to rebuild how we are as an 'us' – we're different people now, with busy schedules in different cities." She paused, shaking her head adorably, almost as if she couldn't believe how "grown-up" they had become. "The way we used to know how to be with each other isn't a way we can be together now. Even when we were apart for school we spent at least two solid days together a week, and that might not be the case now…" she trailed off, suddenly quiet.

Sam sat back, taking in what she said. He honestly hadn't thought about any of it. In his mind, the biggest obstacle in the way of their reunion was the baggage from their break-up, and he'd been so focused on overcoming that, that he hadn't thought about what came after. It was true, they were different people with two separate lives, and they had to figure out how, logistically, this was going to work. It was daunting, to say the least.

"…and all of this is so _new_, and we're gonna have to get used to being apart more than we are together and I don't know if I can handle that! And what about holidays? Our families don't even live in the same _state_ anymore! And what if I start touring again? And your company gets bigger every day, and-"

"_Woah_! Babe, slow down!" Sam was taken out of his reflective moment by an almost hysterical Mercedes working herself into a panic. He put down his glass and hers and took her into his arms, settling her into his lap and rubbing her back in slow circles. "Breathe, Mercy. I love you, okay?" He kissed her forehead and then touched his to hers.

"I love you too," she replied, softly.

Mercedes wasn't the only one taking some deep, even breaths to calm down. Seeing her like that was scary. He didn't ever want to see her that anxious about anything, least of all him or them. It made him feel guilty that she might be so stressed because she thought she had to figure everything out for herself. Suddenly, loud laughter and conversation could be heard heading up the steps to the terrace.

"Come on," he whispered, abandoning their drinks and taking her hand, leading her inside the house through the French doors. They went to his room, and laid down next to each other on the bed, flat on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Another few minutes of silence passed.

"You don't have to figure everything out by yourself, you know."

"I know…"

"Do you?" Sam turned his head and stared at her profile; it was lovely, like the rest of her. "Because I don't think you do. You're a nurturer, and I love that about you, you want to care of everything and everybody…shoulder everyone's burden."

"Sam-"

"Don't deny it, it's true. But in this relationship, we share and do everything together. Mercy…I don't ever wanna see you panicked like that again."

She turned her body toward him and supported her head with her hand. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

He couldn't help but chuckle, darkly. "There you go again, apologizing to me when you're the one who had the panic attack that was partly caused by _me_. You have nothing to be sorry about. I don't want to see you like that because it's not healthy and you're not happy." He turned on his side and mirrored her position. "And all I want is for you to be happy."

"I know." She let her head rest on the pillow and looked up at him with those dark doe eyes and a slight pout on her lips. He leaned down and kissed the pout away from her full lips, his hand immediately going to the dip of her waist and pulling her closer.

"We're going to handle this a day at a time, I promise," he mumbled against her lips, "okay?"

"Mhmm," Mercedes hummed against his lips, lashes fluttering when he drew her in for another, deeper kiss. He was enjoying the way her fingernails were lightly dragging down his back when, suddenly, he got an idea…

* * *

><p>"What the hell, Sam?" Mercedes was quite startled when the person she had been enjoying an increasingly steamy make-out session with sat up quite unexpectedly and bolted towards the door.<p>

"Sorry! Sorry, but I have to do something, I'll be right back, fifteen minutes tops, I promise. Wait here!"

"_What-_"

"Just wait here, okay?" He came over and gave her an excited peck on the lips, it was almost as if she could feel the energy buzzing in him.

"Okay…"

"Great. Be right back." Sam flew out the door.

Mercedes stared at the door and giggled, her hand coming up to cover the incredulous smirk on her face. Laying back down on the bed, she let out a sigh of relief. He was right, they would take it one day at a time, and everything would work out the way it was supposed to. Everything she got so worked up about just a short while ago seemed so much more manageable. She supposed the theme of the day was adjustments in perspective.

She wondered what Sam was up to. When he got that certain look in his eyes it was either something incredibly wonderful or extremely nerdy – or, on more than one occasion, both. She hummed to herself and took out the braid in her hair as she waited. Almost exactly fifteen minutes later he came in and wordlessly grabbed her hand, leading her out of his room and towards what seemed like hers. They entered her room, and he closed the door behind them before turning to her with the biggest grin. Mercedes thought he looked adorable, but was still kind of confused as to what it was that made him beam that way.

"So…" she began, "what now?"

"Strip."

"Excuse me?" _Well damn, _she thought to herself,_ he sure knows how to get to the point._

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do, but-"

"Then go into the bathroom, free that sexy body from its cloth prison, count to ten and then come out."

Never one to turn down naked shenanigans, Mercedes headed to the bathroom and did as told, except she decided to come out in her silk dressing robe instead of the buff. When she came out, the room was dark save for the glow of a row of candles, and Sam was down to his boxers with that same big ass grin.

"Sam?"

"Okay, so you looked pretty upset and stressed when coming back from Rachel's, and you got pretty anxious about us, and you're pushing back that spa stuff with Quinn for me, so I figured I owed you a massage."

She was touched, but emotion didn't keep her from seeing the mischievous glint in his eyes. "You're a saint, offering to rub me down. If only there was something in it for you," she teased, eyes sparkling.

"I know. But it's all about you. It's going to be hard work, getting to run my hands all over that body," he paused, his eyes raking up her figure in a way that made her flush, "but somehow I think I can soldier on." He gestured to the bed.

Mercedes walked over to the side of the bed, and stopped, turning to face him, not a foot between their bodies. She met his eyes and the intensity, the _hunger_ in his eyes made her thighs clench together. Usually she'd feel her cheeks warm and break the gaze, but not tonight. Tonight, she felt bold. She held his gaze, feeling her body grow warmer as her hands reached to untie her robe. Slowly, she untied the knot, and then held the robe closed with her hands, her eyes never leaving his. In one fluid motion, she let the garment drop to the floor, smirking with satisfaction when Sam's gaze snapped to her curves.

Mercedes only waited a beat more before laying on the bed stomach down and gathering her hair off her neck. "What are you waiting for?" she purred, blinking up at him in faux innocence and smiling when she saw him gulp.

Warming the oil in his hands, he approached the bed, and she felt him straddle her. His large hands started at the nape of her neck and worked their way down her shoulders and upper back, kneading away the tension she carried. Every time he finished a particular area, he'd kiss it, and Mercedes was sure her eyes crossed from just how good it felt.

He was working dangerously low on her back, his thumbs making opposing circles in the dip just above her shapely ass, his thighs pressed against her hips, driving her mad. And just when she was sure he was going to give her what she wanted and palm her good, his hands skipped down to her upper thighs. Mercedes let out a whimper that was equal parts frustration and arousal, and she heard a throaty chuckle above her.

_Oh he finds it amusing does he?_ She wiggled her ample backside a few times, his tortured groan sufficient payback for the relentless teasing. Sam worked his hands up the backs of her thighs, his thumbs just brushing her sensitive inner thighs and whatever aching she felt before was nothing compared to the throbbing heat she now felt between her legs. He slowly rubbed his way up her thighs to just under the curve of her ass, each stroke coming dangerously close to her center, winding her up.

Suddenly, he was kissing his way back up her body; thighs, each cheek, the dip in her back, all the way up to her neck, which he nibbled on, before he whispered into his trembling lover's ear.

"Tell me what you want."

"_You know what I want,_" she hissed.

"Tell me." She hated that she could hear that sexy smirk in his voice.

"_I want it_," she breathed, almost lightheaded from arousal.

"_It?_"

"_Mmm…_"

"_Oh,_ you mean _this_?" He dipped his hips, grinding his length against the softness of her ass. She could only moan and grind back.

"_Yesss…_"

"_Good_," he growled, "because I'm about to give it to you." He smacked her ass a resounding, possessive slap.

"Sam_my_!"

* * *

><p><strong>Sam did that for himself, lbr.<strong>

**Next time we get a little Finncedes friendship flashback, a group goodbye, and a little flashback to Mercedes' life in those two years without Sam, among other things.**

**I'd love to know what you thought!**

**- Em**


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